Forged By Blood
by datbenik513
Summary: My alternative take on what should have been Harry's seventh year. Non-Canon and non-bloody-horrible-Epilogue compliant, heavily AU. Before you ask, I couldn't care less about Twilight.
1. Chapter 1

"_May I sit with you?_" The two men, in their mid-forties, sitting at the long, dirty table, raised their heads from their plates filled with rabbit stew and mashed potatoes and scanned the rather dirty interior of the inn. They could swear they'd heard the same words, although the source of the voice was nowhere to be seen. Their companion, a third, somewhat younger man went on with his food as if nothing had happened.

"_**May I sit with you?**_" This time the voice came louder and clearer. It was as if something was attracting their heads to the opposite end of the dimly lit room, where, under the cover of darkness, a lone figure was sitting, sipping his drink. Having felt the pressure of their view, the cloaked figure rose from the bench he was occupying, emptied his glass and moved towards their table. He was moving with a certain degree of grace and elegance, his feet barely touching the ground and when he reached their table, lit by a dirty chandelier above their heads, one of the older men, listening to the name Ron had to gulp. He saw that the figure was casting no shadow at all.

"Thanks for your kind invitation," spoke the figure with an edge in her voice, pulled the fourth chair and sat besides the second man, Harry, at the same time freeing her head from the hood of the cloak. By this time it had become clear that the figure was a girl, maybe 13-14 years old, with shoulder-length raven-black hair. She was pale and thin, only her lips were red and somewhat swollen as if she was constantly chewing on them. And her eyes, Ron realized with awe, sparkled with red as she threw a shy smile at the three. He was unable to take his eyes off her, much to the distaste of Hermione - it was her, disguised as a young man - who, at this point, put down her fork and turned to the newcomer.

"Who are you?" she demanded with a slightly hysterical undertone.

"I can help you," the strange girl answered. Her real voice, her eyes, her face, her manners;she seemed much more mature than her age. There was something wrong about her, the three felt that in an instant. "I can help you. Who I am, at this point, is not important."

"First of all, I don't seem to recall that we'd ever asked for your or anyone else's help. Second, if nothing else, good table manners require to know who you are talking to, so yes, it IS important," went Hermione to lecture mode. Ron could barely suppress a smile, _this_ was the Hermione he'd known so well for so long and secretly fallen in love with.

"Professor Dumbledore used to say that help would always be given to those who were in desperate need," answered the stranger with a wry smile, which, Harry could swear, was at the same time incredibly sad.

"What? You knew Professor Dumbledore?" he asked in disbelief, throwing away all precautions.

"Oh yes, he was my father's best man. The wizarding world is small, you know, on the contrary to what you're ready to believe. Is it true he was murdered in June as the Prophet wrote?" their guest inquired.

"Wait a second. How do we know you're not a Death Eater in disguise?" pushed Ron the matter further, reaching for his wand under the table. The girl could not miss the small movement and laughed, at the same dangerously narrowing her eyes.

"You can't. As simple as that. Were I a Death Eater, I could either have killed the three of you days ago or at least taken you to the Dark Lord and collect my reward. Believe me, I saw neither option fit. But you are right, you can't know," she repeated. "Still, I have to warn you, by the time you pull your wand, I will have already broken your neck. I would not risk it if I were you. Your girlfriend here spoke about table manners. Do you always meet people with your wand drawn ready?" she laughed again, but one could say her laughter was not a happy one.

"Harry, there's something wrong about her, mate. She cast no shadow under the chandelier. Her eyes are red. She is a 13-year old girl who speaks as a professional killer. She speaks in our heads," whispered Ron, leaning across the table.

Harry nodded, for a split second uncertain of what he was going to do. Then, he suddenly made up his mind, ready for a compromise. "OK, here's what we do. You tell us who you are, we tell you who we are," he offered, looking into the strange girl's eyes.

"Oh, but I already know who you are, no need for an introduction from your side," the girl smiled at them, this time with an honest, friendly smile. "At this table, Polyjuiced as three everyday Muggles, are sitting three Hogwarts students, most notably Gryffindors. You are Hermione Granger, sitting besides you is your boyfriend Ronald Weasley;"

"He's NOT my boyfriend!" snapped Hermione, flushing red, then looked at Ron and caught a weird expression on his face. Was it disbelief? Disappointment? Yet, she had no time to think about the matter, as well as the worrying question how the girl was able to see beyond their disguise, as Leticia went on, not taking notice of the interruption.

";and you are the very person Death Eaters have been looking for for ages, my dear. The Boy Who Lived. Shall I spell out the name, or do you get the hint?" she inquired in a playful tone.

"And how do you know all this about us, if I may ask?" asked Harry and ignoring the warning look on their guest's face produced his wand and began toying with it.

"If you had listened previously, my dear, to what I was saying, you would already know that I've been tailing you for days. It's your own fault that you are so careless. When in hiding, one would think you'd exercise more precaution. Believe me, I know everything about hiding. I've been on the run for two years now." She looked up at the barman who brought her another butterbeer and nodded curtly.

"Seems I have judged you wrong. You still have some table manners. Thanks for the drink. When you have slept rough four nights in a row, something to warm you up is really welcome," she acknowledged the hospitality.

She sipped some of her drink, then closed her eyes for a second. When she opened them again, the red sparks in her eyes were gone and they were shining with a vivid, emerald glow.

"My name is Leticia. My parents were murdered by Vol..."

"Don't speak his name. It's cursed! There will be Death Eaters here within minutes!" hissed Hermione.

"My parents were murdered by the Dark Lord two years ago, shortly after his resurrection. Don't look at me like an idiot, Harry! I'm perfectly aware of what you've been through in the graveyard of Little Hangleton... _I can see it in your eyes..._" The last sentence she didn't pronounce aloud, but Harry still could clearly hear the words as their eyes made contact. He saw the two emeralds glow brighter and brighter but could not break the eye contact with Leticia.

"Stop it! I don't want to relive it again!" he cried. Thanks to the Muffliato charm their conversation could not be heard outside their table, so this small incident went unnoticed, the other guests of the pub didn't take any notice of the four.

"I'm sorry... I didn't mean to..." she apoligized, and in a fracture of a second her eyes regained their normal color and intensity. "When I read that article in the Prophet, the article stigmatizing you a liar, a hoax, I tried to read between the lines. There was so much hatred, so much fear in those sentences that I instinctively understood you must have been right. My parents got the willies and immediately started making preparations to move abroad. Two days later they were dead, and together with them my unborn sister my mother was pregnant with. The Dark Lord really wanted to gain their alliance, as my parents had certain... skills and influence."

"Vampires... and you are a vampire as well!" The realization came too hard on Hermione.

"Took too long for the smartest witch of Hogwarts, I'm disappointed," smiled Leticia. "Your Ron here put things together in the first minute, only he could not name things by their name. Impressed!" and she inclined her head towards Ron as a token of approval.

"The boys heard me while you couldn't because I was Calling them. The Call is effective only on members of the opposite sex. When on a hunt, a vampire Calls the victim to come to him or let him in to the victim's place. _Can you hear me, Ron?_" she looked into his eyes. Ron nodded, just like Harry, unable to break eye contact, sitting and staring into her mesmerized.

"Let!Him!Go!" shrieked Hermione as she jumped on her feet and drew her wand to point at her. Only, Leticia wasn't there. She was gone in a whirl. Then, suddenly, Hermione felt a cold breath on her neck and a cold hand with an iron grip grabbed her chin and inclined her head to the left. The perplexed Hermione felt the wet touch of her tongue on the right side of her neck, a few small kisses planted on her skin on the very spot her artery was pulsating causing her to shiver, then a tiny prickling sensation of two sharp fangs touching her skin there.

"Don't tempt me, stupid girl! You are no match to me!" whispered Leticia in her ear breathing heavily, but the red flash, which had briefly reappeared in her eyes, was already gone. She let go of Hermione, and sat back on her chair besides Harry. Hermione stood still on the same spot, as if in a haze. Ron jumped on his feet and hugged her, clumsily patting her back.

"Hermione, honey, it's OK. She won't harm you." She couldn't answer but Ron could clearly feel her nodding. "Sit down, love." Hermione was glad to feel the comfort of her roughly carved chair again as her legs were just about to give in, so she totally missed the last word, but Harry didn't. With a small smile on his face, he looked into Hermione's eyes and nodded. Only then could the girl relax. Harry, on the contrary, couldn't; he had to turn away for a second so that the others couldn't see the pain on his face as the memories of his Ginny and their last kiss on his birthday emerged on the surface. Blinking back his tears, he swallowed and turned back to the others. They seemingly didn't notice the small intermezzo.

"The Dark Lord wanted to persuade my parents, who indeed were vampires, to join his ranks and to recruit others of our kind into his followers. They declined his offer, so he killed them on the spot, with Dark Magic, a curse only a very few wandholders are aware of," Leticia went on as if nothing had happened. "I was lucky I was at school otherwise I would have been killed as well. I've been hiding ever since, almost two years. You know, we have never bitten a human being. In fact, both Mum and Dad were doctors and they were able to cure several people, who were already written off by human doctors. They were doing research on the usage of several ingredients of the vampire venom in modern medicine and were booking some significant progress."

"But what about the hunger? What about the sunlight? How come you drink butterbeer? I read somewhere alcohol was harmful to the vampire metabolism," inquired Hermione, who seemingly fully recovered from the greatest ever shock in her life.

"Dark Creatures, page 244, written by John Lupin," laughed Leticia, baring her beautiful white teeth. Her fangs were nowhere to be seen. "I know you love to read, Hermione, but come on! It's time to learn that you can't trust everything in a book! Especially not the books that mad Irishman Stoker and the followers of his ideas had written. For a doctor, blood and blood preparates are not that complicated to come by. We can eat some of the human food as well, such as a rare steak. And I've got to admit that I like the taste of butterbeer and tea. Coffee, however, would turn my metabolism upside down, as I had learnt in a rather painful experience, when was it, by the way? Around 1970, was it?"

"How... how old are you then, Leticia?" asked Ron in awe.

"Quite impolite of you to ask, Ron, and I don't think you'll book much success with human girls, asking questions of this kind," shook the vampire her head. Harry met Hermione's eyes and was amused to see a hint of a smile on her worn face. Then, she sent him a sad look, which could just as well have meant "What? I've had worse!"

"I will turn 51 this year, just for your records, Ronald," Leticia pitied him after having emptied her glass.

"Well... you look 13, you are 50, but for some strange reason you feel 200," replied Ron the same blunt way, seemingly having missed the point in Leticia's reproachful tone.

"Why thank you very much, Ron. You know, when a vampire child is born, it already has some of the knowledge and experience of the parents. Therefore we do behave older and know more that our age would suggest," Leticia turned around on her chair and giving a sign with her hand she called the barman.

"We can, of course, sit and chitchat here for ages, but we won't advance with our little task here, so I suggest we move to some place safe. Your Polyjuice will wear off ; what, in five minutes, or so?" she inquired as-a-matter-of-factly as she ordered four more butterbeers and four sandwiches, asking the innkeeper to pack them in. When their order was ready, Harry threw some coins on the table and the four left the inn. The only street lamp lit only a small spot, maybe 20 feet in diameter, with its yellowish light, apart from it there was complete darkness in the narrow alley. Just on time, their Polyjuice disguise wore off and they turned back into their original selves. Leticia nodded. "I like this disguise of yours much better, to be honest. Nobody would suspect three 17-year old students planning the downfall of the Dark Lord and I can blend in just perfectly."

"Why, Leticia? What is your plan?" asked Hermione.

"My plan? I have no plan, as of yet. I have only an aim. To revenge my parents and my unborn sister," she replied in a low voice. "Whatever your plan might be, I'm in. I daresay that with me, your chances to succeed are bigger."

"Grimmauld?" asked Harry his friends, seeking their agreement.

"Grimmauld," answered Ron immediately. "What do you think, love?"

"Honestly, I don't know," answered Hermione hesitantly. She still couldn't forget their previous little encounter and she was not sure if having a teenage vampire around while they were sleeping was a really good idea.

Leticia understood her hesitation. She reached for her pocket and picked out a small amulet in the shape of a snake biting into its own tail, forming a circle, hanging on a leather cord. The amulet was covered with ancient-looking runes even Hermione could not read.

"This belonged to my best friend, a human girl. My parents charmed it and gave it to her so that she be protected if I happen to lose control. Unfortunately, shortly afterwards she was diagnosed with an aggressive form of leukemia and passed away within a month. If you don't trust me, you put it on, Hermione. You can also duplicate it and give a copy to Harry and Ron. This way they will be protected, as the protective charm is in the structure of the pendant itself, not simply attached to it. Can you do it?"

"Why of course I can." Somewhat hurt with her abilities being questioned, Hermione reached for her wand and muttered the complex incantation. There appeared two perfect copies of the amulet in her hand.

"Nice work, Hermione. A _Protean Charm_ at your age? I'm really impressed. I was never capable with my wand, so I always had to rely on my other ... capabilities. You will need a drop of my blood, like this..." she bit her lower lip and applied a drop of her black blood on both copies. The ruby in the eye of the snake emitted a red glow, then went dark.

"Ok, now put the amulet on your neck and you are protected from this crazy vampire girl," muttered Leticia half joking, half serious. "If I happen to lose control, the eyes of the snake will light up and the power of the charm will stop me before I could come closer than a yard to you. I wanted to earn your trust; if I were you, I would not want myself around as well. Now, I can assure you I can see fairly well in the dark, what can't be said about you three; so if you don't mind, let's move on. Show me the way, please."

Hermione took Ron's hand and nodded to Harry, who took Leticia's ice cold hand in his. "Leticia, the place we are taking you to is protected by the Fidelius Charm. The address is 12 Grimmauld Place in London. I hope for us all that you don't breach our trust. It might sound lame, but if we fail, there might be no other chance for the wizarding world," he whispered. He felt Leticia's grip tighten on his hand for a second and looked at her, only to see her nod once. For a strange reason he could not explain, as of yet, he trusted her. Suddenly, drawing a sharp breath, Leticia let her hand slip out of Harry's and, reaching under her robe, produced a short, dark wand and raised it in a ceremonial stance.

"I, Leticia Angelica Brown, swear on my magic, my powers and my existence, that I never disclose anything you'll tell me or show me, never share any information I get from you in any form, with any other being without your prior consent. I also swear not to harm anybody you call your family, friend or comrade in front of me, even if my existence depends on it. May the Powers above us help me keep my promise. So mote it be!" she finished the Wizard's Oath in a raised voice, and for a brief moment her contours seemed to dissolve in thin air as a ring of cold blue flames engulfed her.

"I think that should do the trick," she shivered when things went back to normal and her body solidified again. The Trio stood there in disbelief for a second, the Harry gained control again. Offering his right hand again, he pronounced a few formal words.

"Welcome, Leticia Angelica Brown. Your oath is accepted, let us offer our friendship and protection in exchange." The girl accepted the hand; then Ron, and after a second of hesitation Hermione also placed their right hands above their friends'. A golden glow encircled the four, completing the ritual.

Without saying a word, they spun around on the heels and in the next instant the whirlwind of Apparition embraced them, only to land a second later on the top step of 12 Grimmauld Place.

Harry Potter-Black, the lawful heir to the Noble House of Black, reached for the doorknob, which, recognizing his touch, opened and they entered their headquarters.


	2. Chapter 2

No matter how often Harry was stepping over the threshold of his new home, he still couldn't get used to that unpleasant, eerie, chilling feeling taking control of him. That house had seen and felt magic - Dark Magic at its best - centuries long, and this magic had left its blood-chilling footprint at each piece of furniture, each décor element, each living or deceased inhabitor of the ancestral home of the Noble House of Black, once one of the richest and most influentous wizarding families of England.

Hermione had tears in her eyes every time they were climbing the creaky, dark stairs, passing the heads of the house-elves mounted on the wall. A couple of days ago, Ron and Harry needed all their diplomacy to prevent her from taking a Wizarding Oath and swearing she'd curse anybody ever mistreating a house elf again into next century. Having fought and won a 15-minute long word-battle with the portrait of Mrs. Black, awoken by Hermione's crying, they managed to convince her to lay down on her bed and summoned a vial of Calming Draught from the seemingly endless supplies of Sirius' Potions cabinet. When she fell asleep, the two boys took several desperate attempts removing the elven heads from the wall, but the Permanent Sticking Charm holding them in place was seemingly interwoven with Elven magic they had no knowledge of. No matter what they tried, they booked no success.

The same went with Mrs. Black's portrait. This was the first thing they'd tried to get rid of, on the very first day the Trio had sought the protection of 12 Grimmauld Place right after the wedding. Whoever had cast the Permanent Sticking Charm keeping the portrait on the wall must have been a truly powerful wizard; none of the counter-charms they knew of were working. Still, Mrs. Black was slowly, but surely, getting on their nerves. Every loud word, step, every time a door was snapped shut would wake her from her painted dream and then she would go on and on with her tirade in her shrieking voice, dripping with acid. After a rather nasty exchange of words Harry lost his temper and gave her an ultimatum: either she'd shut up or get the same treatment Sirius, Andromeda and Nymphadora's portraits on the family tree tapestry had got from her very own hands. This did the trick and apart from some occasional muttering the portrait decided to keep her thoughts to herself. Hermione had conjured a blindfold made of thick black canvas and applied it to the portrait. With a masterfully done "_Muffliato_" charm she'd finally learned to appreciate they made sure all their conversations – and they'd been having many of them recently – were kept secret.

Kreacher was a different story. The ancient elf could but very reluctantly accept the fact that in his last master's final will he'd been left - together with the house - to a half-blood who, very recently, had been cheeky enough to appear here and take ownership of his inheritance. While the ancient magic binding him to his new master prevented him from causing any bodily harm to Harry or even ignoring any of his direct orders, he chose verbal warfare as more appropriate and was continuously looking for loopholes in Harry's orders which would allow him not to obey those. However, after the first few of Kreacher's small successes Harry had him through and started formulating his commands in a firm voice, carefully, in order to avoid any of those loopholes.

Then, Kreacher went over to psychic warfare. Every now and then a jug filled with ice-cold water would hang in mid-air waiting for Hermione to pass by. A chair would pull back from the table the moment Harry'd take a seat, sending him on the ground. A fully laden plate would mysteriously disappear in front of Ron as he'd take his first bite. And all this time, Kreacher would be around them in the dining room, doing one of his usual chores from a seemingly endless list, mumbling his usual daily litany under his nose about half bloods, Mudbloods and blood-traitors dissecrating the habitat of the Noble House of the Blacks. Finally, something snapped in Harry and he gave Kreacher an ultimatum: either do his job and stop the pestering or he would be presented with clothes. That did the trick and the war ended, although they still were far from friends; Harry doubted if it would ever change or if he'd wanted to change it at all.

Harry emerged from his thoughts, hearing the usual rambling of the house elf greeting them. Then the rambling changed into high-pitch screaming.

"Every day another shame! As if filthy Mudbloods and blood traitors weren't enough, they are bringing along vampires now. The undead! The scum of the Earth! Poor my Mistress! What a shame to the Noble House of the Blacks!" The old house elf went on and on, completely uninterested if anyone heard him, as he was dusting the heads of his ancestors.

Harry was for a short time amusing himself as he was standing there in the corridor, his hands at his sides. However, the elf just couldn't seem to stop, so he decided to lend him a hand.

"That would be enough, Kreacher!" He raised his voice and the elf shut up. Ignoring the glance Hermione'd shot at him, he continued. "Leticia is the friend and guest of the new Master of the Noble House of the Blacks, and in this quality of mine I hereby forbid you to insult, harm or attack her, verbally, physically or any other way. Do I make myself clear?"

"Certainly … Master … " spat the elf and turned away from them, returning back to his dusting, while he went on with his tirade. "The Half-Blood Master commands Kreacher to leave the vampire alone and Kreacher must obey his Master, but Kreacher would prefer to cut the vampire's head and throw her body outside into the sunshine, just to rid Kreacher's home from this filth."

Leticia's eyes were glowing red in the darkness of the corridor but Harry put his hand on her shoulder.

"Kreacher is a character, Leticia. Let's put it this way: he's not quite happy with the recent changes in his status; after having betrayed his last Master, my Godfather, he'd hoped he'd be able to serve another, in his understanding a more worthy member of the House of Black, Bellatrix or Narcissa, but he didn't take into consideration that Sirius had a will. I still don't know every detail of that will, but its's sure as Hell that this house together with Kreacher belongs to me, so he's forced to obey my orders."

"Kreacher is a victim, Harry!" flamed up Hermione. "House elves are a victim of the treaty signed hundreds of years ago which made slaves of them!"

"Hermione, we've been through this. You of all of us should know that that treaty had been initiated by the Queen of the Forest, Maeve herself. Besides, Kreacher is a rotten creature who hated Sirius and effectively killed him. Only it was not his hand to hold the wand and not his mouth to speak the incantation!" Harry argued, feeling the tears collecting in his eyes. Seeing him hurt, seeing the pain on his face, Hermione quickly backed up.

Harry, however, quickly composed himself and drew a sharp breath. "I have to do something I should have done as soon as we came here," he made up his mind. His friends were waiting in expectation what he was going to do.

"Kreacher!" he bellowed with a dangerous spark in his eyes. The ancient elf raised his head. "Kreacher is here to serve the heir of the Noble House of Black," he repeated in a monotonous, clearly lacking any emotion voice.

"Kreacher, I want you to listen very carefully and carve in your memory what I'm going to say," Harry started cautiosly. "From this very moment on, you are freed from any obligations to serve me as your master." He could not miss the insane spark of joy on the face of the elf and mentally slapped himself for being so careless. He could only hope he hadn't done anything irreversible yet, but the elf's smile had quickly been replaced with another emotion. Fear.

"Master Harry, please do not present me with clothes!" Kreacher begged. Normally, Harry couldn't have stayed neutral, but now he knew he had to remain strong, even if his deeds would displease Hermione.

"No, Kreacher, even if you'd been an unloyal servant, I'm not presenting you with clothes," he answered, and indeed, his calculations were right. The features of the elf relaxed a little bit. Harry mentally felt sorry for having to spoil his joy, but nevertheless went on. "However, you are not to serve us anymore. You are forbidden to stay in the same rooms anyone of us is staying in. You are forbidden to spy or eavesdrop on any of us, yourself or by any other means, using magic, portraits, anything and anybody." Going through the conditions once again to see if there could be any loopholes in his order, he nodded. Next step.

"Furthermore, you are strictly forbidden to contact by any means, I repeat, ANY means, anybody from the Dark Lord's followers, anybody sharing his ideas and anybody of their family members, and tell them about anything you see or hear in this house," Harry raised his voice. "I know you've been a loyal servant to the Blacks before," he went on in a softer voice earning an approving nod from Hermione, "so you may continue living in this house you always called your home."

"Thank you for your kindness, Master Harry," answered the elf in a formal tone, while it was clear he'd rather strangle himself. Unfortunately, the ancient magic binding him to his Master was stronger and his Master hadn't spoken the _formal_words to finally release him from his service.

"Don't thank me, Kreacher. Thank the Mudblood!" Harry flashed an apologetical smile at Hermione. Ron, however, flushed red and clenched his hands into fist, stepping towards Harry.

"How dare you call her this name? You, of all of us!" he bellowed. Hermione put her hand on his shoulder, immediately calming him. "One day, Ronald, when you grow up, you'll understand. You'll only have to learn to read between the lines." Ron screwed up his face but said nothing, only cast a murderous glare at Harry.

And indeed, the humiliation of the elf couldn't have been more complete. Yet, he received an order and he was obliged to comply.

"Thank you, Miss Hermione, for your kindness to allow me to stay at the Noble House of Black. Now, please allow me to retreat to my room." His tone may have changed but he would have been happy to strangle her with his bare hand. Harry watched the scene with a smile on his face.

"You may go now, Kreacher. However, I must warn you. Should you fail to comply any of the orders you have been given, I swear to my magic you'll meet the wrong end of my wand, even if my soul will burn for it in Hell forever!"

Leticia, who until now remained silently in the background, now stepped forth and said in a low, emotionless voice. "No, Harry, it will be me. My soul is already condemned. Vampire souls are not allowed to enter the Land of the Shadows."

"Why, Leticia?" Hermione, for the first time since their meeting, looked at the girl as if she were just a normal teenager, with a slight trace of sorrow in her eyes.

Leticia made a shooing movement. "Hermione, we'll have plenty of time for talks. I know you are a very intelligent girl and I will be glad to fill you in on vampire-specific things, but not now. Seems like Harry's not finished yet," she added, casting a questioning look at the boy.

Nodding approvingly, Harry closed his eyes, deep in thoughts. "Dobby!" he cried out, completely unexpectedly for the others. The house-elf appeared immediately in front of him with a loud crack.

"Master Harry! Dobby is so happy to see Master Harry!" The joy of the elf was palpable to see the boy as he danced around the four teenagers. "And Miss Granger and Mister Weasley is also with Master Harry! We is so worried when you is disappeared from the..." Harry clapped the mouth of the elf with his hand, raising his other index finger to his lips. Dobby nodded understandingly, then Harry relaxed and took his hand away.

"Dobby, we need your help, " he started in a low voice. The elf nodded vehemently. "Dobby will does anything for Master Harry and his friends … and his new friend," he looked questioningly at Leticia.

"Dobby, this is Leticia, our friend indeed," said Hermione, kneeling down to the elf so that their head were in level and signing Leticia to do the same.

"Miss Leticia is a vampire, but Dobby doesn't mind it because Miss Leticia is a friend of the great Master Harry," acknowledged Dobby and accepted the girl's hand. Suddenly he shuddered as if he was given an electric shock and released the hand, staring at the girl in mere disbelief. The teens were curiously watching the small intermezzo, not really aware of what was happening.

"Miss Leticia did something to Dobby and Dobby's shoulder doesn't hurt anymore!" rejoiced the elf and hugged the girl to himself. Feeling the questioning looks on his back, he turned around.

"When Dobby was still in service of the Malfoys, one day master Lucius received guests. One of them was Miss Bellatrix, who was that day in a particularly bad mood. Dobby was serving wine but Dobby was clumsy and spilled the wine on Miss Bellatrix's new robe. Even if Dobby punished himself immediately for not being a good house-elf, Miss Bellatrix got very angry and hit Dobby with a curse breaking his shoulder and even Dobby's magic couldn't heal it completely," explained the elf. Seeing the tears, mixed with badly disguised anger, in Hermione's eyes, he hastily added, "Don't cry, Miss Hermione. Thanks to Master Harry Dobby is a free elf now and can serve whomever he wants to and it's Dobby's greatest wish to serve the great Harry Potter and his friends!"

Harry knelt down to him and looked into the elf's eyes. "Dobby, I don't want you to serve me. My wish is that you remain a free elf. I want to hire your services paying you a salary, 2 Galleons a week, effective as of now, if you are available." He couldn't say anything more as the elf's ear-deafening cries of joy made it impossible. Suddenly he felt the touch of wet lips on his left cheek and much to his surprise – as he turned his head in that direction – he met the tearstained, but happily smiling face of Hermione.

"Thank you, Harry, for this. You know what it means to me," she whispered into his ear.

"Dobby, now that it's arranged, can you please prepare us some bedrooms to sleep in? Guys, I don't know what you think... Hermione, shall we all take a separate bedroom?" Harry asked, just to ease the moment. The girl thought for a while, then shook her head, sending her gorgeous hair flying around in the air.

"Let's stick with a girls' room and a boy's room, I guess. There are two big bedrooms on the second floor besides each other. There's a door in between them, but I advise you not to get any ideas in your heads," she laughed. "Come on Leticia. Dobby, I'll show you the way." She turned around when she saw that the other girl was unmoving and took her hand. "Come on, I don't bite."

Seeing the comic disbelief in the other three's eyes, she burst into laughter upon realizing what she'd just said. She saw Leticia's features relaxing; first she, then the boys as well joined Hermione in laughter, then the small group of friends took the stairs to the second floor.


	3. Chapter 3

The creaking stairs led the four teenagers and the elf to a dusty, creepy corridor on the second floor, where one of the walls was occupied by two identical heavy mahogany doors. They were richly decorated with silver snake ornaments, even the door handles were bearing the form of attacking king cobras, created centuries ago by an unknown – Hermione's educated guess would have been an unknown Goblin – goldsmith.

These must have been the bedrooms of the Master and and the Mistress of the House in ancient times, Harry thought, as he randomly opened one of the doors, silently praying that the door wouldn't be guarded by some dark creature from the other side. Then, almost instantaneously, he hushed away the thought and emitted a nervous laugh. Not even two years ago they had thoroughly cleaned out the house and he was sure that apart from the boggart in the cabinet on the third floor it was completely free from any unwelcome presence. So, with growing self-confidence, he entered the room – more like a chamber - and lit his wand, the other three following his example. But Dobby was already inside; he lit the magical torches on the walls and started immediately cleaning the room, muttering some complex incantations in Elvish.

The teenagers watched in awe; apart from the Hogwarts kitchens, they'd never seen an elf in action. In no time, all dust was gone, the windows were clean and opened, letting the warm, fresh air of the August evening into the chamber, the floors were swept, the rags covering the four-poster were gone, and the bed was freshly made with crisp, clean linnen, covered with a burgundy-coloured heavy velvet cover. Another identical four-poster appeared from thin air, and with a loud thump fell on the floor, lined up two yards from the first one. Two identical toilet tables were conjured and two identical, full-height mirrors were hung on the wall, and by the time the girls managed to close their gaping mouths, Dobby popped back from behind the small door on the far end of one of the walls proudly reporting that the bathroom had been taken care of and was now ready for the two Misses.

Laughing at the elf's antics, Hermione thanked him for his valuable help, carefully omitting the loathed word "service". Nodding profusely, the small creature beamed. "Miss Hermione has always been very good for my kindred. We, elves, will never forget this and it's my pleasure to help you in anything you need." The careful observer immediately would have noticed the change in the elf's voice and attitude, and also the fact that his English had drastically improved and his voice suddenly sounded different. Ancient.

Opening the door connecting the two suites, the teens gaped. What seemed to be a simple door led toward a smaller chamber, about 5 yards wide, with a fireplace, four armchairs and a sofa, all of the same burgundy colour of the bedcovers. This room must have also been cleaned together with the girls' bedroom, Harry mused, as there was not even the tiniest hint of dust on the floors and the walls; it was also impeccably clean. Then, he suddenly remembered that the two doors leading to the bedrooms were a mere two yards away from each other on the wall and he understood. This was a magically enhanced anteroom connecting the two suites, something similar to the Room of Requitement and Harry wondered for a while what surprises the house still had for them.

Already knowing what would expect them on the other side, with a smile he opened the door, which he reckoned would lead them to what would become the boys' room for now, and indeed, he was right. The anteroom behind them shrunk back to its original size as they left it.

Dobby was already awaiting them.

"I have put all your belongings of all of in trunks under your beds, Master Harry," he beamed again. Harry had to suppress a wry smile. All their belongings were what Hermione'd managed to pack into her beaded bag and Leticia had nothing with her at all except the clothes she wore. Dobby seemed to understand him, as he cast him an assuring smile.

"I took the freedom and picked some clothes which might fit you from the wardrobe room on the fourth floor for all four of you, Master Harry, since I knew you'd had to leave your place rather unexpectedly," he nodded, with a spark in his huge eyes.

Not willing to ask the elf where did he get all his information, Harry shook his head. "Erm... Dobby, thank you very much for your help, but... do you think you could skip calling us Master, Mister or Miss? I, for one, feel a bit incomfortable by being addressed like that and Harry would be just fine," the boy replied, looking around for support from his friends.

"Most certainly, Mas... Harry," nodded the elf. "You must understand that we aren't used to be treated as equals, so you must be patient with me; it will take some time getting used to it from my side," he apologized for the slip of the tongue.

"That's fine, Dobby," assured him Hermione. "Now, with regards to you. Where would you prefer to have your own room?"

There's a small room adjacent to the wardrobe room on the fourth floor, I think it will be just perfect for me, Truthful One," replied the elf, looking into her eye.

"Pardon me, Dobby, what did you just call me?" inquired the startled girl.

"This is the name the Hogwarts elves had given to you, back in your third year, and while several of them were rather upset thinking that you were trying to trick them somehow by presenting them with those hand-knitted hats of yours, they acknowledged your efforts of changing the way elves had been treated by your kin for a long time," explained the elf, as he looked straight into Hermione's eyes. The girl stood there mesmerized, not able to break eye contact with the elf, and all of a sudden pictures rushed through her mind. She saw herself in the Common Room with her knitwear. Then, the picture changed and she was standing in a small clearing in a forest, behind a roughly carved table. One of the people sitting behind the table was a woman of astonishing, ethereal beauty in a simple white dress, wearing a golden tiara and Hermione knew instinctively that it must have been Maeve, Queen of the Forest.

Maeve set her signature on a sheet of parchment, and producing a small silver dagger from the folds of her dress, made a small cut on her index finger and pressed it against the parchment, which emitted a golden glow, recognizing her blood.

The picture now faded and Hermione found herself back at Grimmauld Place. Rapidly blinking with her eyes, she slightly nodded at the elf, as if she were to say "I will keep our tiny secret."

"I am honoured, Dobby, and I accept the name you kin had given to me," she pronounced in a clear, ringing voice, "although I would still prefer being addressed 'Hermione', if you don't mind. Now that you've taken care of everything in such a wonderful way, why don't you take care of your room as well, and let's everybody just go to sleep. It's been a tiring day and tomorrow will be no different."

"Good night, Ron," she kissed the startled boy on his cheek. "Good night, Harry." Her fingers lingered on his face for a split second. She turned to the elf. "Good night, Dobby."

Taking Leticia's hand into hers, she left the boys' room and the boys jumped as if they had just awakened from a hypnotic state by the loud bang of the door connecting their room with the anteroom and the faint pop of Dobby Apparating away into his room.

"Exploding Snap, the winner to use the bathroom first?" joked Ron, slapping Harry playfully on his shoulder.

"You go ahead, Ron," yawned Harry. "I'm bushed so you'd win anyway. This was a hell of a day, with the two Death Eaters at Diagon Alley, and then meeting Leticia." As if in a haze, he reached for the pendant, the ancient Ouroboros symbol under his T-shirt.

"Yeah, mate, she's definitely something," agreed Ron, searching his trunk for fresh underwear. "I never thought I'd ever be standing THIS close to a vampire."

"There was one, a certain Sanguini, in old Slughorn's club," mused Harry. "But, Leticia is so much different from him. Sanguini had that hungry look in his eyes the whole evening, it was as if he was waiting for the right moment to catch those girls for a dinner. She seems more normal to me."

Shrugging, Ron made his way towards the bathroom. "Different or not, I still don't trust her. I know that medal offers some protection, but I'm not comfortable with Hermione sleeping in the same room as her. I haven't had the guts to tell Hermione yet…but, you know, I really like her.

"It's high time you did mate_. _Otherwise, you'll be dancing around each other for the next ten years," Harry scolded him, feeling a pang in his heart as he thought of Ginny and the few happy moments they'd shared together. "Will we be there in ten years at all?" he asked himself the somewhat rhetorical question, but he decided not to share his concerns with his best friend of six years. "If you don't like the current sleeping arrangements, would you like to swap rooms with Hermione?" he teased him aloud instead, just to ease his own pain and clear his own head from those disturbing thoughts.

"Bloody hell no!" he yelled back from the bathroom and the next thing Harry heard was the unmistakable sound of water running from the nozzles and Ron whistling a song of the Weird Sisters.

Shaking his head, Harry slowly lowered himself onto his bed. His butt had hardly hit the mattress when his eyes closed. Sleep consumed him immediately, and he stretched out, still in his clothes.

A few yards away, Hermione just finished her shower and, dressed into a soft white bathrobe returned to their bedroom. She found Leticia sitting at the toilet table, slowly brushing her waist-long, raven-black hair, while idly staring at her own reflection in the mirror. Upon hearing the girl enter the room, she shook her head as if trying to shoo away some bad thoughts and looked up into her eyes.

"I already told you, Hermione, that you shouldn't believe everything you read in your books. Bram Stoker stated that vampires have no reflection in a mirror. Rest assured, this is completely bollocks," she laughed.

"I do believe you, Leticia, it's just... too much to digest in one day," she whispered. "For some strange reason, I believe you and I trust you, even if I probably shouldn't, at least that's what my rational mind keeps telling me. Not only because of the Ouroboros and your oath. I somehow feel you're honest. I've always tried to see things in a rational way, but they don't seem rational any more. Too many things have happened to me, my family, my friends I can't consider as such."

The two remained immersed in their thoughts for a while, then Leticia took Hermione's both hands into hers and strangely enough, they didn't seem that ice cold any more. It was again Hermione to break the silence.

"Do you... well, uhm, do you sleep at night?"

"Why, got a flashy coffin for me?" joked Leticia and Hermione joined her in laughter. "I do sleep at night and I can walk outside in the daylight just like you. What Kreacher had been referring to was that should I cease my existence, direct sunlight would destroy my body." She stood up from her table and went to her bed, sliding between the crisp sheets and letting out a satisfactory groan. "Nice to feel like a human being after two years on the run." With obvious pain in her voice, she added, stressing the first word. "**_Feel_** like a human being. Good night, Hermione."

Standing perplex for a split second, Hermione swallowed the lump in her throat and moved to her bed as well, on her way magically dimming the torches on the wall. "Good night, Leticia," she whispered, and the other girl was surprised to hear badly disguised sobs in her hushed voice.


	4. Chapter 4

Ron wasn't having a good night's sleep. He was tossing around in his four-poster, breathing heavily. He was haunted by nightmares, the first time since his twin brothers had pulled that prank on him causing him to develop arachnophobia. Only, his dreams were filled not with spiders this time, rather with Hermione.

He saw her facing five cloaked, masked Death Eaters at once, dodging and blocking spells, then being hit by the same Flame-cutter Curse Dolohov had used against her at the Department of Mysteries.

He saw her kneeling before Voldemort, bound in magical chains, the features of the snake-like face twitching in a twisted pleasure as his hand raised his wand and the lipless mouth spoke "_Crucio_".

He saw her walking alone in a dark alley and he saw a giant dark shadow suddenly stepping in her way; he saw the pale face opening his bloodless lips and he almost felt the sharp fangs puncturing her skin.

Awoken from this dream, he summoned his wand – he didn't even realize what he'd just done, he jumped off his bed not caring he was only wearing his boxershorts and rushed to the door, then through the anteroom. Completely unaware of the painful contact of his leg with one of the armchairs and almost blasting his way through the other door, he entered the girls' bedroom, out of breath, the adrenaline pulsing in his veins.

The picture awaiting him was beyond his imagination. Hermione was – just like him, mere seconds ago – having a bad nightmare; she was tossing around in her bed, screaming from pain, crying out his name loud. On her bed sat Leticia, holding her hands, trying to calm her.

Ron raised his wand. "Get away from her!" he bellowed.

Leticia, not taking notice of him, whispered something into Hermione's ears causing the girl calm down and her breath slow down, then she finally fell in a deep sleep. Nodding satisfied, Leticia turned her head to Ron.

"Put that wand away before you hurt someone, Ron. She was dreaming of you being killed by Voldemort; she was begging him to kill her instead of you. Now she's dreaming of your favourite spot at the Hogwarts Lake, with only you and a picnic basket around." She smiled at the boy who flushed red and then scratched his head in obvious discomfort.

"I'm sorry for having yelled at you, Leticia," he started apologizing, "I've just had a nightmare myself; first Hermione being tortured by Voldemort, then bitten by a vampire in a dark alley. I guess my nerves are a bit dodgy, that's it. With you being a vampire..." he continued bluntly, then snapped his mouth shut.

"I'm used to prejudice, Ron; I wasn't allowed to go to school at all and no children wanted to make friends with me. Of course, when they told their parents that I was a vampire, they were chastised, even punished for lying, but children knew better. I had only one friend, a girl of my human age, who sadly died two years ago from blood cancer," she went on, closing her eyes.

Ron put his hand on Leticia's shoulder. "You have three friends now. We want the same thing and we'll help each other." Six years of being best friends to outcast Harry Potter had left their traces on Ron as suddenly he seemed to be more supportive, leaving his ego behind for a change.

"I love the sound of it," smiled Leticia, as she brushed the soundly sleeping Hermione's hair with her hand, then stood up from her bed. "She needs you tonight, Ron," she whispered and left the room, very silently closing the door behind her.

Shaking his head, Ron let out a sharp breath. "She'll hex me into next century for this," he thought. Then, collecting all his courage, he carefully slid between the sheets and spooned against Hermione's back, draping his right hand protectively around her, carefully, so as to avoid touching her bits. Inhaling the sweet scent of her hair, he repeated "She'll hex me into next century. But what a way to go..." and drifted back in peaceful sleep.

"Ronald!" "RONALD!"

Even the thick walls were unable to filter out Hermione's cries. Harry unwillingly opened his eyes, put on his glasses and with a grunt consulted his watch. It was shortly after six in the morning and his body longed for some more sleep, but he was eager to find out the reason behind his best female friend's distraction.

Opening the door to the antechamber, he was surprised to find Leticia curled up on the sofa, still asleep. It was quite chilly in the room and Harry summoned his own bedcover and carefully arranged it over the fragile body of the sleeping girl. She murmured something, from which Harry could understand only "three friends" and slept on. Harry watched her for a second, with a small smile on his face, then he was awakened again from his thoughts by another loud yell, a bang, and a painful grunt. With his wand at ready, he stormed into the other room, not knowing what would expect him. However, once inside, he lowered his wand and burst into uncontrollable laughter.

The picture in the bedroom was indeed comical. Hermione, Weasley-red and wrapped into the bedcover up to her chin, was standing on her bed and pointing her wand at Ron, who in turn was half-sitting, half-lying on the floor. Just having tripped across a chair, he massaged his buttocks with a painful expression on his face, while trying to raise a "_Protego!_" shield around himself to keep away the flock of sparrows attacking his head.

"Care to fill in?" Harry inquired, when he gained his breath again.

"Dunno mate, I was enjoying my beauty sleep when all of a sudden she blasted me out of bed. I fell across the chair and the next thing I remembered was those bloody birds attacking me and you blasting through the door. Why do I always have to be at the wrong end of her wand?" Ron complained, eyeing his two friends suspiciously.

"For the record, Ronald, this is the _girls'_ bedroom and this is _my_ bed," snapped Hermione, but ended the incantation and the sparrows dissolved in thin air. "What would you expect from a girl who'd just woken up with a boy in her bed clearly remembering she'd had no intentions sharing it with him?"

"I'll have to thank Leticia for that..." muttered Ronald as he finally managed to stand up from the floor and pull the chair back to the toilet table.

"Pardon me, Ronald?" Hermione asked, raising her wand again.

"Last night both you and I were having nightmares, Hermione," Ron started slowly, "and I woke up hearing you scream my name. I rushed into the room and found Leticia at your bed; she managed to calm you, then you fell asleep again. She told me I should not leave you so I climbed in your bed and held you tight as we slept. I knew you might hex me for that but..."

"You knew that, did you?" interrupted Hermione in a voice, dripping with acid.

But, Ron wasn't that easy to stop. "I knew that alright but I thought it was well worth it. You know, it pained me to see you suffer and I would have done anything to stop that."

He looked into those beautiful eyes and became oblivious to everything else. Neither of them realized that Harry silently had left the room and they'd been left on their own.

Ron swallowed, then slowly licked his dry lips. "Until tonight, I'd been too thick to realize that I'd been in love with you all this time, Hermione. Never had the guts to tell you. No matter what, whether or not we succeed defeating Voldemort, I will always love you."

Realizing what he'd just said and flushing red, he jumped up and fled the room, into the safety of his own bed, hiding himself under the cover, before the startled girl could even realize what he'd just said.

There was one single thought occupying his head now. "You blew it. Just ruined everything," he kept repeating to himself. Suddenly, he felt the cover being pulled off him and sat up, just to get a full-screen view of Hermione's tear-stained but happily smiling face, mere inches from his.

In that instant, nothing, not even Voldemort mattered any more; he awkwardly hugged her to himself and captured her lips in a kiss for the very first time. A kiss neither of them wanted to end as they closed their eyes and gave themselves over to that wonderful feeling, enjoying the proximity and warmth of each other.

Snuggling closer to him, Hermione raised her head and looked into his eyes. "Where are we going, Ronald? What will happen to us now?" she whispered into his ear.

"Well, for a start, we'll date and in the meantime help Harry with whatever he needs our help with," Ron answered, closing his eyes, not taking notice of his heart rapidly pounding in his chest.

Hearing a polite cough but unwilling to break their embrace, the two turned their heads. Harry was watching them with an evil grin on his face. "Took you ages to sort it out, you two. I'm glad you finally have, though." Pointing to Leticia, shyly entering the bedroom, he laughed. "Were it not for her, I would have grown a beard and still been watching you dance around each other."

Ron stood up, letting Hermione go and walked up to the girl. Pulling her into a hug, he said, "Yeah, sometimes I may be thick and need some encouragement. Thanks for the tip."

The girl's emerald eyes glowed with happiness as she simply answered "That's what friends are for, Ron." And then she hugged him back.

"Hey lovebirds," yelled Harry a bit too loudly, causing Hermione to giggle and the other two blush. "Once we're all awake, how about a quick shower and some breakfast? We still have a world to save!"

Nodding his agreement, Ron offered, "Exploding Snap? The winner to use the bathroom first!"

Laughing at his best friend's antics, Harry made a "go ahead" motion with his hand. "Give us fifteen minutes, ladies, and we'll be down in the kitchen," he offered.

"Give us fifteen minutes _each, _gentlemen," a still gleaming Hermione replied, playfully poking him in the ribs.

"Women!" Harry shook his head, watching the girls leave the bedroom, as he felt the familiar pang on his heart again. He had to find a way to speak to her.

Half an hour later the four friends were sitting in the kitchen where a small table was laid for four. Ron and Hermione were sitting at one side of the table, holding hands and locking eyes, while Harry was teasing them making vomiting gestures earning a Bat-Bogey hex from Hermione.

"Hey! It's Ginny's trademark! I didn't know you knew that spell," he complained, when Hermione finally took pity on him and reversed it.

"A woman, Harry, should never play out all her trumps at once," Hermione said in a mock-serious voice, pocketing her wand.

"Too true, Hermione, too true," Harry answered absentmindedly. Every mention of Ginny was painful; it made him heart sick to have broken up with her and he knew it broke her heart as well, yet he hoped that it hadn't been for nothing. He longed to speak to her, or at least send some message to her, However, they didn't know whether the Burrow was safe as there still may have been Death Eaters on guard expecting the return of Harry and his friends.

His train of thoughts was interrupted by Dobby, who, wearing an impeccably clean apron, reported that breakfast was ready.

"I took the freedom to throw away those four disgusting sandwiches from yesterday, Harry," the elf started, "who knows what that turkey had been in its previous life." The teens rolled with laughter.

"Just tell me Dobby, what would we do without you?" inquired Hermione, still shaking with laughter.

"Well, hunting down Voldemort maybe?" the little elf retorted in an innocent tone. "We elves want him taken down as well, the sooner the better. You see, he's not picky when it comes down to choosing his victims. He and his followers had been torturing and killing humans, goblins, elves alike, without hesitation and I daresay Earth will be a better place for all races without him."

Snapping his finger, Dobby summoned what he called breakfast for four, in fact enough to feed the whole Order. Harry raised his head from the table.

"Dobby, why is the table laid for four? It's five of us now," he asked, locking eyes with the house-elf. He saw comprehension dawn on the elf's ancient face. "Since we are not in a Master-Servant relationship, I'd rather you eat with us as well," he pressed on.

Dobby nodded and a fifth set of tableware and a high chair appeared at the table where he climbed up. "This is why we house-elves have decided to put our fate into the hands of the Boy-Who-Lived. Don't get me wrong, Harry. I know you hate that name and you have every right to do so, but you are an extraordinary wizard from more than one aspect. Surviving a Killing Curse is only one of them."

Smiling at Hermione and Ron, Harry shook his head. "I'm no more extraordinary than anybody else in this room. I'm a barely of age wizard, mediocre with charms and spells, who just happened to be at the wrong place in the wrong time and has been so ever since. It's friendship and love what makes us all do extraordinary things. Remember the Troll? Quirrelmort? Sirius? Buckbeak? The Ministry? We could have never made it without each other, without having friends."

Letting go of Ron's hand, Hermine smiled at him and reached over the table, grasping Harry's hands. "Without having family, you mean. I know you haven't had one for quite a long time, but the Weasleys practically accepted you into the clan and..." she paused and took a sip of her orange juice.

Feeling Harry's questioning look, she continued in a hushed voice, somewhat uncomfortably. "Do the names Wendell and Monica Wilkins ring a bell to you?" Harry silently nodded, then explained Leticia in a few words how Hermione'd sent her parents away from harm's way. When he was done, Leticia was watching the other girl with even more appreciation.

"So, before Wendell and Monica Wilkins boarded the plane to Australia, they put their signatures on two documents. One finalizing your adoption, the other document appointing me as your guardian, effective on my 18th birthday, until you reach the age of 18," Hermione went on in a trembling voice. Tears escaped her beautiful eyes, as she whispered "I always wanted a sibling. Now I have one. Welcome, Harry James Potter-Wilkins, into the family."

Everyone, even Dobby, sat there dumbfounded. Harry's fingers let go of the Butterbeer bottle he was holding in his hand and it made contact with the stone floor, shattering into tiny particles. The teens saw Harry's face go pale as he rose from his chair and without saying a word, turned and rushed out of the kitchen. A few seconds later they heard the loud bang of the front door.

Not knowing what to do, the three remaining teens sat there confused for a minute. Then Hermione stood up. "I have to talk to him. It's all my fault. I have to find him." The others joined her, even Ron forgot about his third helping he'd just put on his plate.

"_We_ have to find him," he said simply.


	5. Chapter 5

Even though they'd heard the front door being slammed shut, the teens and the elf spent a good half hour to search the mansion throughly just to make sure Harry was not in the house. Having convinced themselves that Harry'd indeed left the building, they came back to the kitchen, clearly not knowing what to do.

"Do you think he went to Hogwarts?" Hermione asked for the umpteenth time, on the verge of breaking into hystery.

"Well," started Ron cautiously, "he can't have gone back to the house he used to live with those awful Muggles, can he?" Seeing the others shaking their heads, he went on. "We can tick off this one. As for Hogwarts, I'm not that sure."

"I can take care of that, Ron," nodded Dobby and disappeared with a loud crack. Ron went up to Hermione and protectively hugged the girl to himself. "It's not your fault, Hermione," he whispered into her ears, gently stroking her hair. Hermione didn't answer, only burst out in silent sobs, snuggling closer to the boy's warmth she needed so much.

In a mere few minutes, Dobby returned. "He's most certainly not in Hogwarts. The elves hadn't seen him, neither had the portraits or the Headmistress and staff he could have gone to. Hagrid is away and the Shrieking Shack is empty. He can't be in any of the not-so-secret passages as well. I spoke with the Come-And-Go Room," he continued, getting Hermione's full attention, "but his presence there hadn't been noticed either."

"Which means by this time he can be just about anywhere on the planet," finished Leticia the thoughts of the elf.

Hemione knew better than that, though. "Harry still doesn't have an Apparition licence, and, most probably, since the Department of Magical Transportation is in Voldemort's hands now, he wouldn't risk Apparating knowing that he can be monitored. Which makes me realize that the last several days we have also been Apparating meaning we could easily have been traced as well!" Realizing what this would mean to all of them, she let out a frustrated shriek.

"He's taken his broom and his cloak," Dobby plopped back, "so he's still somewhere in or around London. Not a pleasant perspective to search such a huge human city for a needle in the haystack, I need to admit."

With a mysterious smile on her face, Leticia stood up. "I think I have an answer." Raising her hands to the sky, she momentarily transformed into a giant bat and flabbered out of the open window. Ron's jaw dropped as he watched the scene and was just staring into the spot the girl had just vacated.

Time went by and still no news from Harry or Leticia. Hermione was pacing up and down the kitchen, nervously writhing her hands, silently cursing herself for the thousandth time. Suddenly, they heard the flapping of huge wings and out of the nothing a huge bat appeared, carrying the unconscious body of Harry. Sweeping the remnants of the breakfast on the floor, they placed the body on the table and Leticia transformed back.

"Harry's OK, don't worry, Hermione. I had to stun him to bring him back. He was clearly not himself and very much upset," she explained, pointing her wand at Harry and muttering "_Ennervate_". The boy's eyes opened and he drew a few deep breaths, while climbing off the table and shakily getting on his feet. When he realized where he was, he lowered his head in shame.

"Damn you Potter!" cried Hermione and forcefully slapped him across his cheek, her fingers immediately leaving a red trail on his face. Then, she jumped at him and started frantically kissing his face. "Damn... you... Potter... leaving... like this... could have been killed... you bloody idiot..." Ron was watching her with a strange expression on his face. Having felt his stare, Hermione disentagled from Harry's embrace, cupped Ron's cheeks and planted a firm kiss on his lips, leaving him completely out of breath.

"You're my boyfriend and Harry's my brother. I want you to understand and accept that, Ronald. I love you and I love him, but what I feel for you is totally different from what I feel for him," she said, kissing him once again. Then she took Harry's hand and pulled the boy with her, out of the kitchen.

Once in the anteroom, she plopped down on the sofa and patted it indicating Harry to sit down. Still holding his hand, she put on her stern Hermione Granger-look. "Now spill! What on Merlin's saggy pants made you rush off just like that? There could have been Death Eaters outside waiting for you!"

"Hermione, I don't know what to say. I have never had a proper family and the mere thought of having one, belonging to someone came too sudden. Not that I'm unhappy with all this; I've always considered you my sister and I wouldn't have given this feeling away for anything else," he admitted. Feeling that there was more to it, Hermione urged him to continue with a questioning look. Drawing a sharp breath Harry obliged.

"There was a time in our fourth year during the Triwizard Tournament, with you spending practically all your time helping me to survive the three tasks, when I felt something different towards you." Completely missing the pretty blush on Hermione's face, he continued. "I don't know if it was love, I've never known what love, real love was, not even after kissing Cho, until Ginny and I have got together. But then, I watched you two idiots dancing around each other and understood you were destined to be together. I'm completely happy with you being with Ron and completely happy and flattered at the same time by having you as a sister. I couldn't have dreamt of more, Hermione."

"Harry, I... I did feel something for you in fourth year and if you'd asked me to be your girlfriend, I would have most probably said yes. But then, at that thrice blasted Yule Ball, I realized that I loved Ron with all of my heart even if he was thick and tactless and had the emotional range of a teaspoon." Both of them laughed as they recalled that talk in the Common Room, the evening after Harry'd kissed Cho.

Harry suddenly went serious. "Hermione, tell me one thing. You practically lost your parents by fiddling with their memories and sending them to the other end of the world. I'm sure when all this is over we'll find them and you'll be able whatever charms you've done on them and reunite with them. What made you have them adopt me instead?"

"Harry, everybody needs a family. A proper, loving family. You haven't had the chance to have one, not counting the short time you'd managed to spend with Sirius, before he... before he..." Hermione started crying and Harry gently drew her into his embrace, his hands making small circles on her back.

"Shhh, don't cry, big sis," he whispered into her ear, eliciting something which could have been qualified as a nervous laugh. Still, the girl slowly came to her senses and raised her tear-stained eyes to meet the boy's equally wet face.

"When it's over, James Wilkins, you will have a proper, loving family, I promise," she nodded. "Besides, in the Muggle world you're still considered a minor and having a guardian may come in handy sometimes."

"You truly are my guardian. My guardian angel. Saving my sorry arse more often than I can recall," murmured Harry and stood up, pulling the girl up as well in one smooth movement.

"My soon-to-be _brother-in-law_," he said, stressing the last word, "will go berserk if we don't join them very soon. Why don't we just get back to the kitchen and continue what we were doing?" 

Upon entering the kitchen, Hermione immediately went up to Ron and settled comfortably in his lap, draping her arms around his neck. The boy, protectively hugging the girl to himself, quickly assessed the situation, and, seeing on their blood-shot eyes that both had cried, drew a sharp breath.

"Are you both... I mean OK?" he inquired cautiously.

"Yes, we are, Ron," answered Harry, just a fracture of a second ahead of Hermione. "We had a talk with Hermione and she opened my eyes to things I'd never realized before."

"Good for you, you two," murmured Ron barely audibly, "is this 'brother' stuff now real?"

"Yes, Ronald, it couldn't be more real than that. My parents – their new identities, that is - have really adopted Harry," confirmed Hermione.

"Bloody hell woman!" cried the boys in unison. "How long did it all take for you to arrange this?"

"alitlbitmorthanayear" mumbled the girl, flushing red.

"Pardon me?" raised Harry his head.

"My parents have started the adoption process shortly after the events at the Department of Mysteries. Basicall we just arranged for transferring Sirius' guardianship over Harry to them, which was a piece of cake really, and immediately started the adoption process. I just interfered at some places and changed some minor details like names and addresses, placed some Confundus charms on the necessary people, arranged for James Wilkins' birth certificate, ID and school certificates, bank account, and debit card," Hermione counted on her fingers as if she was discussing the ingredients of tomato soup with them.

Amazed at the gigantic amount of work she'd done, Harry watched her in awe. She must have been the smartest witch of the century, maybe even the millenium. Meeting her eyes, now beaming at him, he let a huge grin form on his face, as he slowly understood what it all meant.

"Thank you, _dear sister_, for everything," he said simply, making an emphasis on the word "sister", though.

"Not a problem, _dear brother_," she answered.

Ron was getting rather unconfortable at this point, seeing that the two were sharing now something he had nothing to do with, so he tried to direct the conversation away from this theme. "Leticia, where did you find Harry?" he turned to the other girl.

"Well, it wasn't that hard. I just had an educated guess of what other places Harry might have ever called 'home'," she admitting, with a playful twinkle in her eyes.

"Godric's Hollow!" shrieked Hermione. "You Apparated to Godric's Hollow, you idiot, knowing that there might have been Death Eaters, knowing that your Apparition could have been traced!"

"Amazing what a good broom can do, Hermione," smiled Harry. "With a little tweaking, I can fly twenty miles in a quarter of an hour, which I'd just done. Then I Apparated to a village another ten miles from Godric's Hollow and covered the rest by broom."

"This was irresponsible, dangerous, foolish, hazardous..." Hermione ran out of adjectives. "Just promise me you'll never scare me again like that!"

"I, Harry James Potter, solemnly swear on my life and my magic..." started Harry, drawing his wand, but Hermione interrupted him. "Leave the bull, if you would. Just promise."

"Promise," Harry gave in. "I promise that the next time I tell my parents what a wonderful sister I have, I will take aforementioned sister with me."

Happy that the talk's been done, he went silent for a minute.

"Guys, I think we have a little problem to solve. I was thinking about it last night but it's kind of tricky. It's been five days since we disappeared and the Weasleys and the Order still don't know what happened to us. We have to notify them somehow," he spoke up finally. "What do we have?"

"We have no owls," started Ron. "Besides, owls can be intercepted."

"Talking Patronus? I don't know the incantation and there's a chance that there are Death Eaters at the Burrow," continued Hermione. "The Floo network is probably monitored as well so we can't even contact Kingsley or Remus or whomever else, which leaves us with nothing."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that," smiled Leticia again. "Who do you want to pass a message to and what would that message be?"

Arthur, Molly and Remus have just finished to clean up the rest of the mess the Death Eaters had left behind and sat down in the kitchen to enjoy a fresh mug of coffee, when they heard a soft knock at the kitchen window. A tiny bat was sitting at the windowsill and knocked again, this time more impatiently. The three adults drew their wands, while Arthur opened the window and let the tiny creature in. It flew into the kitchen, landed in the centre of the table and spoke in a girl's voice.

"Mollywobbles, your youngest son and two surrogate children are fine. Twelve is a beautiful number. Ickle Ronniekins finally found his courage to ask Ms. Wilkins out. The-boy-who-must-be-hyphenated sends his love to Firefly and says he's missing her. If the sky is clear, it will be cold at night, so they'll light a fire. Greetings to Gred, Forge, Dragonman, Billy the kid and Phlegm."


	6. Chapter 6

Molly flushed red, gasping in horror. When she found her voice again, she asked the bat to repeat the message and it was all too happy to oblige.

Having heard it for the second time, the wizards understood that it was a riddle, a coded message they had to solve. Yet, they had to make sure it was not a trap, a setup of some sort and they didn't put their wands away.

"It has to do something with Harry, Ron and Hermione, hasn't it?" inquired Molly cautiosly, eyeing the messenger. Ever since the sudden disappearance of the three kids she's been on the verge and the repeating visits of Death Eaters were just pouring oil into the fire. However, there were no clashes between the Weasleys and the unwanted visitors, but they made it perfectly understandable that the Burrow was under constant monitoring.

"Yes, it definitely has," the bat answered, nodding profusely. Its small, black eyes scanned the interior of the kitchen, then they wandered over to the faces of the three wizards, comparing them with the mental images received from the teens.

"How do we know you're not Voldemort's spy?" raised Remus his wand in suspicion. There were only a handful people the Order could trust; news on murders and plunderings were no news any more and a good part of the Wizarding population decided to stay low profile or moved abroad.

Quickly evaluating the possible answers, the bat shook its head. "You don't, it's as simple as that. You just have to place a bet."

Still flushed red, Molly looked at her husband. "It's only you who call me Mollywobbles, when..."

Arthur, as always, tried to stay reasonable. "Ron knows this nickname of yours as well, dear. But if he'd been captured, any information, anything that's supposed to stay inside the family, everything he could have possibly heard or witnessed may be known to Voldemort by now."

Molly emitted a shriek and covered her face with her hands. "Arthur, please don't tell me V...Voldemort has my son!"

Understanding that he must be strong for both of them even if he was equally worried, Arthur hugged Molly to himself. "I didn't say that, dear, I only said that there was a small, but real possibility," he replied, kissing his wife on the forehead.

Letting go of her husband, Molly stood up and went to the kitchen window. Blankly staring outside, where the garden gnomes just started chasing two careless young hens, she whispered a silent prayer. "Merlin, my children are somewhere out there and the whole world is against them. Please keep them safe and return them to me!"

"Molly, they will be fine, Arthur is right. There were no signs of them being captured. Severus would have known. Why don't we just try and found out what this message is," interjected Remus and turned back to the creature.

"So, you want to say that Ron, Hermione – the surrogate daughter – and Harry – the surrogate son – are fine, right?" He was happy to receive a nod from the bat and the wizards relaxed a little in their chairs.

Mentally playing back the text of the message, Molly frowned. "Twelve... what could twelve mean? Why is it a beautiful number?" she mused, barely audibly to the others, nervously playing with her apron. "It's not a magical number anyway; three, seven and nine are."

"Grimmauld Place!" Comprehension dawned at Remus' worn face. Full moon was just four days ago and his transformation was painful as he ran out of the Wolfsbane potion with Snape not being around to concoct it. "They are currently at Grimmauld Place, and as such, relatively protected as no one except the Order knows this place. It's still under the Fidelius charm."

"Quite right, Moony," chirped the bat, completely startling the wizard.

"How... how do you know my name?" Remus asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Everything in it's own time, Moony. Now go on, I'm enjoying it," urged the bat.

"Ickle Ronniekins – wait, the twins call Ron this name... Ms. Wilkins... who on hell is this Ms. Wilkins Ron had asked out?" went on Molly, clearly confused.

"The name Wilkins is the new identity of Hermione's parents, Molly," sighed Arthur. "She modified their memories, gave new identities to them and sent them over to Australia, away from harm's way. She knew that because of her closeness to Harry, her parents might become a potential target of Voldemort and his followers."

"So, this Ms. Wilkins is no one else but Hermione? Ron finally asked Hermione out? That's a good boy!" Molly beamed, and picked away a few tears, happy tears this time.

The bat hopped over to Molly and looked into her eyes. "Yes, he did, Molly, I've witnessed it myself, although he did need a little stimulation from my side. Harry was joking about getting old and growing a beard before those two finally got together."

"That's still information which can be obtained using Legilimency or the Cruciatus Curse. I still don't trust it," interjected Remus again. "Constant vigilance, huh?" the bat laughed in her tiny voice. "Having fought so long side-by-side with Mad-Eye rubbed off on you, right?"

Suppressing a small laugh, Arthur turned to the bat. "Excuse me, how was the message further? The boy who? I didn't quite catch it."

"The-boy-who-must-be-hyphenated," repeated the bat slowly and patiently. Only now did the wizards fully understand the phrase and all of them burst out in hysteric laughter. Wiping away her tears, Molly turned to the others. "I love this new name of Harry's. Why don't we keep it? The-boy-who-must-be-hyphenated, bloody brilliant! Whose invention was it, anyway?"

The tiny bat straightened proudly. "Mine," she answered simply. They had a good laugh at breakfast while compiling the message; even Harry, who hated his various names, couldn't remain neutral to this one.

"Who are you then, little one?" inquired Molly in an incredulous voice, allowing the bat to climb in her palm.

"Later, Molly. There will be time for questions later," shooed the bat away the question.  
By this time the wizards were clearly enjoying themselves. Remus suddenly got a flashback of the ten-year old himself, curled up on the sofa and reading "The Children of Captain Grant", where the main heroes were trying to decipher a badly damaged message-in-the-bottle.

"So, Harry's sending his love to ... Ginny, and greetings to the twins,"

"Dragonman is George,"

"Billy the kid is of course Bill and Phlegm is Fleur," completed the wizards the message.

"I don't get that last sentence," mused Arthur. "'They will light a fire...' means … wait a minute … fire-fireplace-FLOO!" he cried out the last word victoriously as he finished his train of thoughts.

"If the sky is clear, that is, if the Burrow is safe and if the connection is safe, we can talk to them via the Floo." Molly looked at her husband. "Arthur, do you think the connection is safe? Ours and theirs?"

Arthur stood up, pointed his wand at the fireplace and muttered a long incantation. The fire emitted several long, blue flames.

"Ours is safe now. Dumbledore made Grimmauld Place unplottable before his death, so I would assume they are in safety as well. There's only one way to test." Throwing a pinch of Floo powder into the fireplace, he called out clearly. "12 Grimmauld Place!" Seeing that nobody was answering his call, he repeated it again, indicating the others to move out of sight and raising his wand.

"Arthur!" yelled Hermione in surprise, dropping her coffee mug. "Are you all right? We were so scared for you when the Death Eaters came!"

"We are all right, Ms. Wilkins," Arthur smiled at the girl, trying to calm her, " but we aren't sure whether the Floo connection is safe. We just got a message delivered by a cute messenger and decided to check on you."

Hermione's features relaxed and she continued in a more calm voice. "Her name is Leticia," she nodded, understanding the unspoken question. "She's our friend and we completely trust her. She can fill you in on things and we can catch up later."

Storing this bit of information in his head, the older wizard turned to the others, smiling broadly. "Sounds like a plan, Ms. Wilkins. Be extremely careful. See you later then," he agreed.

"You too, Arthur, you too. Good-bye," Hermione broke the connection and the green flames died in the fireplace.

Emitting a relieved sigh, the three adults turned to the bat. "Sorry for being so suspicious, Leticia, but you must understand..." started Molly.

"Never mind, Molly, it's completely understandable. I wonder though, why you didn't simply Stun me and pour Veritaserum into my mouth instead of listening me out." Taking off from the table, the bat made two circles above their heads, excitedly flapping with her tiny wings, then gracefully landed on the floor, instantaneously turning into her human form. Stretching her arms and legs, the girl smiled at the wizards. "I don't like being in that form for a long time. It's rather inconvenient, you know, and I had a long flight."

"An animagus... at her age..." Molly was startled. Suddenly she caught sight of Remus. The other wizard jumped up from his chair, started sniffing the air and emitted an inhuman roar. Leticia's eyes, at the same time, started to glow red, and her facial features distorted. She was close to transformation. Breathing heavily, she raised her right hand.

"I came with peace, as a friend, werewolf," she said, and Arthur saw her fangs were starting to protrude from her gum. She was barely able to control herself, but Arthur realized it was more of a self defence mechanism.

"Remus, please, give her a chance!" Putting his hand on the other wizard's shoulder and applying some pressure, he managed to get Remus back into his chair, but the latter was still suspiciously eyeing the girl. Flashing her an apologetic look, he turned to his wife.

"Molly, Leticia is no animagus. She's a vampire. Vampires and werewolves have been at war for the last ten centuries, and while we don't know much about the why's and how's of this war, it's ongoing, even in our days. Their reaction to each other is understandable."

Turning back to her normal self, Leticia walked up to Arthur and extended her hand. "I'm Leticia Brown." Arthur accepted the hand and introduced her to the others. Following the others' example, Remus also shook her hand while Leticia flashed him an honest, friendly smile.

"Molly, I can smell apple-pie. Ron's praising your cooking to heaven. What about some tea? My throat is dry and sore from all that talking and I'm afraid we'll have more talking to do," Leticia offered innocently.

"Of course, how rude of me. My children's friends are always welcome in our house," Molly smiled at her. With a wave of her wand, the adults' coffee cups were refilled, with another flick she levitated a teapot and a cup in front of Leticia, and with a third movement a monstrous serving of said apple-pie appeared in front of each of them.

Half an hour later, everybody was filled in about the events of the last week and the adults were relieved that the teens were out of danger, at least for the time being. However, when asking Leticia about their plans, she wouldn't say a word. "I've given a wizarding oath," she explained. "It will be safer for all of us. What I'm allowed to tell is that it has to do with Voldemort and the prophecy that had been made about him and Harry."

"Damn that old fool!" piped up Molly. "Merlin's pants! Harry's barely of age. He would sacrifice that poor boy for his 'greater good'! When I die, the first thing I'll do is turn the old manipulator into a leapfrog."

Everybody had to laugh at her idea, but Arthur suddenly went serious. "Molly, the boy has made his choice. He decided to stand up for himself, for all of us and for everything he believes in and he has friends to help him. The only thing we can do is stand by him and give him all help he needs. Harry had faced Voldemort on more than one occasion and he's still alive to tell the tale." Screwing his face in a wry grimace, he frowned. "The Burrow, however, isn't safe, and I imagine that Death Eaters would be popping by every now and then, just to check on things, so they can't come back here. Which makes me think that Grimmauld Place is most probably under supervision as well. Seeing them there, at a safe haven, is really a good thing; it means Severus is still on our side."

"Molly, they can take care of themselves," interjected Lupin, when he saw her getting nervous. "Harry's trained them well in fifth year; they'd managed to hold off a bunch of the most dangerous Death Eaters at the Department of Mysteries, the six of them, for quite a long time. I don't know many adult wizards, who could have done the same."

Nodding her agreement, Leticia tried to calm the Weasley matriarch. "Actually, they are very careful when they leave the house and always use Harry's cloak. We haven't seen any suspicious activities until now, although they mentioned to me that two days ago a man with a badly scarred face was sitting on the bench in front of the house the whole day reading a newspaper. He seemed familiar to them but they couldn't recall where they'd seen him before of what his name was. As for me, vampire Apparition cannot be traced and I don't need a cloak to become invisible for a short time," she explained.

"In fact," she went on, refilling her cup, "I've been flying around your home for a good fifteen minutes checking if you had any unwanted visitors." Raising her head from the cup, she interlocked her eyes with Molly's. "I need to apologize to you, but I've been listening into your conversations as well; I didn't fancy the idea of running into any Death Eaters inside the house while trying to pass you the message."

"Dear, I'm glad my children have found such a wonderful friend and a powerful ally in your person. You don't have to apologize," beamed Molly, taking the girls' hands into hers.

Remus frowned, visibly deep in concentration. "Badly scarred face... Dolohov..." he thought to himself. "He was at the Department of Mysteries then. Gotta take care of him. I don't like the idea of having him around the kiddos."

Then, he spoke out loud. "I think I have an idea for a safe communication method." Looking at Arthur, he asked. "Do you remember Sirius' mirror?" The older wizard thought for a while, then a huge grin formed on his face. "Moony, you are a genius. A mad genius. You do justice to the old Marauder tradition." Conjuring four small mirrors, he handed them over to Remus. Waving his wand in a complex pattern over the mirrors, the werewolf nodded in satisfaction.

"This is as safe as can be. Leticia, can you take this one to them? The Weasleys will have one, I will keep the third mirror and I think it will be safe to bet that Professor McGonagall would also like one. I have charmed them so that they will work only with those to whom they were designated. In the hands of other people they will be just a simple mirror. Just tap it with your wand and say the password, then the name you want to talk to," he explained, visibly proud of himself.

"And what would be the password?" inquired Molly, pocketing her mirror.

"Leticia Brown," said the werewolf, smiling at the vampire.


	7. Chapter 7

The next couple of days went by in a more relaxed atmosphere at Grimmauld Place. After Leticia came back with the news from the Burrow, they immediately tested the connection and it was working just perfectly. It did all of them good to be able to talk to their families and learn that they were fine.

On Saturday morning, after breakfast, Harry left the house under the disguise of his Cloak to meet Remus in Muggle London. The older wizard was just about to leave for a mission to Ireland, where, rumour had it, a fairly big number of local wizards went underground upon hearing the news from the UK. His task was to try pursue them to join the fight against Voldemort. Since some of them were practising the ancient and powerful magic of the Druids, gaining their alliance would have meant a slight shift in the balance of forces in the war and every little bit counted. He didn't want to leave, though, before talking to Harry first and pass him the latest news.

Last night Leticia had left for her first mission as well. The Order got word about recently increased activities of one of the biggest vampire clans in England and she volunteered to check out the reason behind all that stirring. Having more than two hundred adult vampires join Voldemort was an idea none of them liked and – even if it was a dangerous mission – they all understood that Leticia would be the perfect spy in their midst.

In the meantime Ron, together with Dobby and – surprisingly - Kreacher, was cleaning out the basement. There was a fairly big room there, around one thousand square feet, which, they reckoned, was just perfect to make a training room of it. Researching the Horcruxes and find ways to their possible destruction was only one item on their to-do list; an imminent war was coming their way and the four of them were determined to survive it. Getting rusty with their spells, they decided it was time to catch up and Remus gave them some really useful books on advanced spells, some of them bordering Dark Magic. At first, Hermione was not too keen on learning how to liquify one's internal organs or break one's bones with one single curse, but finally she saw reason. Being an intelligent person, she understood all too well that the other side would not be picky in their methods.

This morning, Ron and the elves were putting the finishing touches on the training room. The old furniture and other stuff they had currently no use for went up to the attic. They conjured some mattresses and placed several training dummys. After having discussed Dobby's brilliant idea with Kingsley, last night the Auror sent them some Auror training wands to be placed in the dummies' hands. When in the room, Dobby was able to animate the dummies and channel some of his magic through the wands, making them perfect sparring partners and the room the perfect place to simulate a live battle. Both Ron and Dobby were equally proud of the results and decided to have Remus, Kingsley and Arthur have a look at it as soon as possible.

So, after breakfast, Hermione was as good as alone in the huge manor. Helping herself to a second mug of coffee, she just sat there for a while, staring out of the window. She was not really aware of the outside world, though; her head was filled with millions of thoughts in a chaotic mixture. Thousands of pictures were rapidly replacing each other before her eyes. Ron's warm lips as he gave her a good-morning kiss, making her heart want to jump out of her chest. The huge, honest grin on Harry's face upon seeing her every time. Last night's talks with Leticia filling her in on vampires. Then, for some strange reason, she remembered their sorting and their first Charms lesson with Flitwick. Her thoughts, however, always returned to a certain house in Buckinghamshire where she was born and lived the first twelve years of her life and to that day, less than a month ago, when she, unknowingly to them, saw the Wilkins' off at Heathrow as they boarded the plane to Australia.

Curling up on the chair she was occupying, she hugged her knees and a sole teardrop went down on her face. Without her parents, even if she'd been spending the bigger part of her last six years away from home, she felt incomplete. "I miss you, Mum, Dad, I miss you so much!" she thought, closing her eyes and fighting her emotions. "I hope you'll ever be able to forgive me for what I'd had to do. Be pissed with me, shout at me, just please understand everything had been done to protect you; you might have been killed if you'd stayed here." There was nobody there to listen to her silent prayer, yet, she felt somewhat better after emptying her heart.

Shaking the thoughts away, she rose from the chair and rinsed her mug in the sink, leaving the kitchen afterwards. Not really having anything particular to do this morning, she decided to check on Ron's progress in the basement and lingered there for a while. Then she resumed her aimless stroll in the corridors, from time to time opening the door to a particular room, not even knowing what she was looking for.

Some time later, she ended up on the fourth floor, curiously eyeing a heavy mahogany door opposite the wardrobe room. It was a marvellous piece of art, so to say, with an intricate carving of the Blacks' coat of arms at eye-height, but there was something odd about it Hermione at first couldn't place. It was radiating something dark, something powerful; a strange presence, causing a tingling sensation on her neck. Drawing her wand, she raised a shield, just in case, and stepped closer.

_"Curioussss, are we?"_The voice, muted and somewhat distant, yet clearly understandable, almost made her jump. Turning around and raising her wand, she searched for the source of the voice, but she was completely alone. There were no portraits on the wall on the fourth floor either, and the voice didn't belong to anyone she knew, she was sure as hell about that.

_"Curioussss little Mudblood, what are you doing here?"_ The hissing was louder this time as if the speaker moved closer to her. Shrugging at the thought of having to be around somebody invisible, even being accustomed to Harry wearing his cloak, scared her a bit, and she decided not to take a risk.

**"Oratoris Ostendo!"** she pronounced, not paying attention to the verbal insult, and her wand emitted a bluish wisp of vapour, somewhat similar to the effect of the Patronus charm. The fog, however, dissolved quickly, leaving no trace whatsoever, bar one spot.

Suspiciously eyeing the doorknob, now flickering with an eerie blue light, Hermione stepped closer. It was an exquisite piece of art again, a king cobra cast of pure silver, her eyes inlaid with genuine emeralds; even if she hadn't known about the loyalties of the former owners of the manor, she would've gotten an answer to her question right now.

Suddenly, the cobra stretched his neck and opened his mouth, letting his tongue slip out and sense the air around him. The emeralds, his eyes, lit up and the startled girl gasped.

_"Get rid of thissss misssst, Mudblood, sssso that I can ssssee you,"_ the cobra whispered in his chilling voice and Hermione piped up.

"Let me see, I can Silence you, I can lock your tongue, but I can also blast this door into oblivion together with you. If I were you, I would mind my words," she hissed back, and pointed her wand at the doorknob, just to stress her intentions. With a quick flick of her wrist, she ended the incantation and she saw the muscles of the snake tense as he was following her wand movement with his head.

"Who are you, anyway?" the girl inquired, pocketing her wand.

_"I'm Cereussss, the guardian of my Masssster'ssss ssssecretssss,"_ the cobra answered with certain pride in his hiss. _"My magic lockssss the door and nobody getssss passsst me unlessss invited by my Masssster or giving the correct passssword."_

Carefully considering her words, Hermione paused for a short while. "Your last Master was Sirius Black, correct?" she pressed further.

Shaking his head irritatedly, the snake spat. _"By Birthright only. Ssssiriussss betrayed the Black family and their idealssss, yet, being the lasssst living male desssscendant, he wassss my lasssst Masssster. Luckily, I've had the quesssstionable pleassssure of sssserving him only for a sssshort while."_

Hermione silently thanked Heavens for _not_ having Harry around for a change, knowing that Sirius' death was still painfully etched into his memory and he could get violent upon hearing such tactless references about his deceased Godfather. Suddenly, she got an idea and grinned at the doorknob.

"Do you know, Cereus, who your new Master is now?" Her eyes twinkled playfully, knowing that the Guardian – just like Kreacher – would rather swallow his tongue than answer this question.

_"You refer to the Boy-who-lived, Mudblood? With my Masssster'ssss lasssst will, thissss housssse, together with all sssservantssss and belongingssss are hissss now."_

"And the password to the door you are guarding?"

The snake emitted a short laughter. _"I'm afraid it will be losssst forever if Ssssiriussss failed to passss it onto the Boy-who-lived."_

Hermione could not miss the sarcasm in the victorious voice of the Guardian and the failure to call Harry his Master. Good, she thought, drawing a sharp breath, it comes down to me again.

"Do you mind if I try to guess it?" she looked into the the emerald eyes of the cobra.

_"Go ahead, be my guesssst,"_ the short answer sounded. The snake curled up in his original form and cast a somewhat bored, yet expecting glance at her.

A good observer could have probably heard Hermione's brain changing gears as she, frowning her brows, silently thought for a while. "The room has bonded himself to the current Master. I wonder if the password is automatically set in this case."

"Harry James Potter!" she cried out victoriously. The snake closed his eyes, as if dying from boredom. He didn't even bother to turn his head towards the girl.

"Nice try..." she thought, with a lopsided smile on her face. "Maybe Harry should have been here to finish the bonding first. Sirius Black!" she intoned suddenly. This time, the snake answered, silently shaking his head.

Hermione wasn't the type to give up so soon. "Names... must be a name of someone, a _real_Black, someone the house would _fully_accept..." she collected her thoughts and, closing her eyes, recalled the tapestry with the Black family tree from her memory and started to name the Heads of the family, one after another.

The snake emitted a sarcastic laugh. _"I ssssee you're familiar with the hisssstory of the Noble Housssse of the Blackssss, but no, Mudblood, you're wrong."_

Hermione lost her temper and drew her wand, pointing it at the doorknob. "I warned you to shut it, you Pureblood bigot... piece of furniture!" Suddenly, she heard several locks click in the door and saw the eyes of the snake emit a faint green glow. The magnificent cobra stretched his muscles and his head was now level with the girl's eyes.

_"You have provided the passssword, little girl, sssso I will have to let you in, even if I completely disssstasssste the idea. Misssstressss Walburga would blow me into piecessss for thissss, but unfortunately sssshe hassss no authority here whatssssoever any more."_

Hermione was slightly taken aback. Has she just provided the password? "Wait a small sec, Cereus. What was that blasted password?"

_"For the ssssmartesssst witch of your age, you are ssssurprissssingly narrow-minded. 'Pureblood' issss it. Wassss that sssso hard to figure out, knowing the ideassss thissss Housssse had been sssstanding up for for agessss?"_

Hermione had enough. "Listen, Cereus, I'm just about getting fed up with being taught morals by a _doorknob_. I'm going into that room, _now_, and it would do you good to keep your split tongue to yourself before I stick it to the ceiling with a Permanent Sticking Charm."

The snake didn't show any signs of being frightened or hurt. Lazily curling up again, he yawned, letting the candlelight glister on his venomous fangs for a split second. Hoping that the girl got the hidden message, he absentmindedly added.

_"Very well, you may enter. Pleasssse refrain from touching me, however. There'ssss no one here to clean me after your touch."_

The door opened and Hermione entered the study, but not before she'd cast a Full Body-Bind curse at the irritating doorknob. This was a magnificent room; spacious, maybe 30 by 30 feet, and also much higher than the usual rooms in the manor. The wall opposite to the entrance was covered with portraits, portraits of Blacks, as Hermione suspected; Masters and Mistresses of the House of Blacks during its centuries-long existence. An enormous fireplace, intricately carved from a greenish sort of marble Hermione'd never seen before, adorned the interieur; from the magical green flames Hermione deducted at once that it was still connected to the Floo network. She silently hoped that it wasn't a direct connection to Malfoy Manor or some other Death Eater headquarters.

There was a prominent smell of dust and old books lingering in the air and the rays of the morning sun, having found their way through the shutters, illuminated millions of specks of dust, dancing in the air. A casual flick of Hermione's wand threw the shutters ajar letting the sun in its full glory in, and the young girl gasped in awe. The other walls, every square inch of them, were covered with bookshelves, loaded with books of different ages, sizes, themes. Feeling in her element again, she slowly wandered around the study, pulling an odd book from a shelf checking its title and author or just opening it at a random page.

"I wouldn't bother with that one. Leave that bit to Ronald Weasley. Besides, it's been two hundred years; the methods of courting have most certainly changed since the times of the French Revolution."

Hermione, deeply immersed in her thoughts, emitted a high-pitch shriek and dropped the book she was holding, the first edition of "Bewitching a witch and stealing her heart" written by one Jacques Motsdoux, from her hands. Her heart pounding in her chest, she momentarily produced her wand and frantically looked around herself, searching for the source of the voice, so distant, and yet, so painfully familiar.


	8. Chapter 8

"**SIRIUS BLACK!**"

All colour left Hermione's face, even her lips went white, as she, still clinging on her wand, slowly turned around, fearing that her trembling legs would give in. Just behind her, above the entrance door, hung a portrait of a handsome, expensively-clothed wizard with long, wavy, black hair, here and there already greying. Said wizard was portrayed sitting at a desk – the same ebony desk standing in the middle of the study, casually leaning behind in his intricately carved chair.

Sirius Black now rose from his chair and stepped forward, leaning against the desk, folding his arms and silently watching the girl. A playful spark twinkled in his usually tired, sad eyes.

"Hermione Jean Granger, we meet again," he said simply.

Her legs still trembling, Hermione inhaled sharply. It seemed to her that she'd forgotten to breathe and her body and brains were desperately craving for some oxygen. Having taken several deep breaths, she managed to regain complete control and made a step forward.

"Damn right we do, Sirius. Were it not for the simple fact that you're dead, I would have hexed you into oblivion for scaring the willies out of me like that," she muttered, flushing red from embarrassment. Then, realizing what she'd just said, she went pale and, dropping her wand, covered her face with her hands and started crying. Sirius watched her with a strange emotion on his handsome face which was difficult to decipher, a mixture of pain, sorrow and … amusement.

Raising her tear-stained face, Hermione hiccupped. "I'm so sorry, Sirius. I didn't mean all that. It still pains me, and especially Harry, every single bloody day, that you can't be with us anymore. He still blames himself, after all this time, of being the one causing your death."

"Next time you see him, Hermione, which probably won't take long, please kick his sorry arse for me, would you? Just be easy on him, promise, he's still my Godson," Sirius laughed, looking into her eyes. "Tell you what, you'll have a stiff neck very soon if you keep staring at me like this. You can levitate my portrait from the wall, if you want, and then we can have a more comfortable chat."

Muttering "**_Wingardium Leviosa_**", her trademark spell from 1st year, Hermione moved the portrait from the wall and carefully placed it on the very chair Sirius was portrayed in, leaning it against the back of the chair. Pulling another chair for herself, she sat down.

"How come you have a portrait here, Sirius? Who commissioned you?" she inquired, going into know-it-all mode.

"Simple. No one. The magic of the House automatically renders a portrait when the current Master or Mistress passes away. Only, I was deemed unworthy of joining the illustrious company of my Mother & Co, so I was placed here, as far away from them as possible," Sirius explained. "I see you got past Cereus the Cerberus," he laughed.

Hermione looked at him questioningly and he went on. "When we all were young, we'd regularly come up here, Bella, Cissy, Andy, Reg and myself, trying to sneak into this room. We were confident there would be some nice-and-nasty artifacts or stuffed house-elves..." The girl shot a murderous glance at the older wizard and he emitted a short bark-like laugh, apologetically smiling at her.

"Sorry, Hermione, I know about your S.P.E.W. We were children then, Reg about 3-4, Bella, being the oldest, in third year maybe. All raised in this bigotry, we knew nothing else. I'm glad that at least Andy and myself have had a chance for a normal life, that is, if 12 years of Hotel Azkaban can be considered normal," Sirius slowly raised his hand, pointing at his temple. "Bloody normal, if you ask me. So, one day, we came up here again and wanted to enter the study. Bella grabbed the doorknob and Cereus bit her hand. She spent a week at St. Mungo's, the others were told off. This was the first time I'd seen my father REALLY furious. Certainly not the last one, if I may add."

"Served her right, the bitch," Hermione pointed out. "I wish she hadn't been patched up then. The world would have been a better place without her and her likes."

"That one, you are damned right in, Hermione," agreed Sirius, nodding profusely. "I see you're growing up."

Smiling honestly, Hermione scratched her ear. "I started my growing-up process on the train when I repaired Harry's spectacles. Little had I known then what I was going to be facing later." Flexing her fingers, she started counting. "A mountain troll. A three-headed dog. A basilisk. Dementors, werewolves, dragons, giants, and giant pink toads," she continued, slightly out of breath. "And, if a dozen of the most dangerous Death Eaters weren't enough, as a topping there's this enormous, insensible git called Ronald Weasley," she emitted a frustrated sigh.

Feeling Sirius' questioning look, she snapped irritatedly. "Yes, I love him, alright?" Flushing prettily, she added, barely audibly, "three days ago, he finally admitted that he loved me as well and he kissed me..."

Sirius clapped his hands, visibly delighted with the news. "Lucky bastard, he is. I'd never seen my godson end up with you as all Potters seem to fall for redheads, and I would have never allowed you date anyone else, so end good, all good!"

"I can take good care of my love life, thank you very much!" retorted Hermione with a twinkle in her eyes. "Besides, I can't date my own brother, can I?"

Sirius fell off his chair with an audible _thump! _"Pardon me? Would you care to repeat that last sentence, sweetheart? Dead for a year and already missing so much fun!"

Half an hour later Sirius, thoroughly brought up-to-date with the developments of the last year, was sitting at his painted desk again, smoking a cigar, deeply immersed into his own thoughts.

"So, the game has started again and the dice are rolling," he mused, pointing his look somewhere, visible only to him. "He decided to go public, just like back then, so many years ago. Only, this time, his powers have grown and his followers are more numerous and more cruel than before. Does Harry know about that thrice blasted prophecy?"

Silently nodding, Hermione looked into his face with her warm, brown eyes. "Professor Dumbledore told him the night you..." she gulped, then continued, her voice barely above a whisper, "the night you died."

Sirius seemed to be pleased with the answer. He rose from his chair, and started pacing around the table, putting out his cigar. Carefully weighing his words, he asked. "So, he knows what awaits him at the end, right?"

"Sirius, please don't speak about him as if he were already dead!" Hermione begged. "He knows that sooner or later he has to face Voldemort tête-a-tête and he understands all too well that their standoff can end either way." Seeing the wolfish grin on Sirius' face, she cast an irritated glance at him. "What's so immensely funny about it?"

"Our task, Miss Know-it-all," Sirius teased her, not taking note of her clenched fist and her shallow, fast breathing, "would be to ensure that this standoff could end only one way. But before that, an announcement. Calm down, take a deep breath and look at me, will you?"

Having her full attention, he clapped his hands. "Hermione, my dear, I've been missing out on your last birthdays, due to some... unforeseen events. I'm fully intent to catch up on this." Seeing her trying to object, he stopped her with a simple hand gesture. "No, no, no, don't even try it, Hermione. See it as my last wish, if you would. You saved my life, for one, and you saved the life of that git of a godson of mine on more than one occasion."

Unable to utter a word, Hermione nodded silently, tears glistering in her hazel eyes. Sirius flashed her a thankful smile. "My present to you is what you've been craving for your entire life. Knowledge," he started in a somewhat theatrical way. With a broad gesture, he pointed around himself and continued. "The complete Black library, including every single book, sheet of parchment, everything you see around yourself now, is all yours. There's no one else, even Lily Evans, who could have made a better use of it, believe me."

Unable to suppress her cry of joy, the overwhelmed girl jumped up from her chair and pressed her lips at painted-Sirius' forehead. Now it was his turn to get startled.

"Hey! I'm too old for you!" he shooed her away, sending her a trademark Marauder wink. She flushed pink in an instant, but nevertheless, managed to retain her voice. "I'm so thankful to you, Sirius. It's my best birthday present ever," she smiled at him.

Sirius, however, turned serious. "Don't mention it, Hermione. Use it at your will; if someone, you will be able to find a method to bust old Baldyfart's sorry snake arse out of this world for good. Which makes me think. How many Horcruxes did Dumbledore think Voldemort had managed to make?"

Hermione was ready with the answer. "The Professor was positive about seven."

"No wonder there's nothing human left in him any more," nodded Sirius, deep in thoughts. "Accio 'Dark Magic at its Darkest'!" he intoned and stretched his hand, catching the huge folio soaring towards him in mid-air, but not without an effort. "This book, Hermione, you will certainly not find in Madame Pince's little empire. Start with this one."

The girl already summoned the book to herself, and Sirius barely managed to stop her before she could touch it with her bare hands. Following his directions, she levitated the book on the desk and randomly flipped it open with her wand. It was indeed an ancient one, bound in faded, yellowish leather, handwritten in something resembling red ink, and some of the illustrations made her stomach perform a somersault.

"Written in 1327 by nota bene a Franciscan monk, a distant relative to Salazar himself, later Slytherin headmaster, this book contains the most cruel, most horrible magic mankind had managed to produce to date. Compared to this, the Egyptian 'Book of the Dead' is a fairy-tale. Never ever touch it with your hand. Don't sit more than fifteen minutes behind it. It will drain your magic and suck out your life-force," he warned the girl with a serious face. And indeed, as Hermione stared into the open book, she felt a chill climb up on her feet, squeeze her guts and slowly freeze her blood. It took her considerable effort to shake herself out of her half-lucid state and with an irritated gesture she snapped the book shut, causing it scream with frustration.

"Human skin, once belonging to a heretic, Hermione," Sirius said simply, foregoing her question, "and written in the monk's own blood at full moon. Blood, torture and killing have always been an integral part in Dark rituals. This is how Voldemort had made his Horcruxes as well. How many of those have you already managed to locate?"

By now, the young witch had completely recovered from her first encounter with the book and regained her clear thinking. Summoning a glass and a heavy crystal decanter of Firewhiskey, she poured herself some and swallowed it in one gulp. She coughed and sputtered as the strong drink burned her throat and intestines, but soon she felt considerably better.

"The first Horcrux was Tom Riddle's diary, destroyed by Harry in the Chamber of Secrets," she enumerated. "The second one was Marvolo Gaunt's ring, recovered by Professor Dumbledore. If our assumptions are correct, we have five more to go and they can be virtually everywhere in the world. Not a nice perspective and we are running out of time."

Sirius' face tensed up and he pressed his lips tight. Quite visibly, he was fighting an internal fight, When he spoke again, his voice was resembling that of an old, broken man.

"Three, Hermione. Only three. Voldemort retained a piece of his own soul and I'm afraid I know exactly where the last Horcrux is. It's within our reach."

"Harry..." whispered Hermione in a trembling voice. "The scar... the night Voldemort murdered his parents, he completed the ritual again..."

"...and it will be your task to extract this soul fragment from him before it completely takes him over," finished Sirius het thought, preventing her from saying it out loud. "That book may just provide the key to it."

"Sirius, I will help him, even if I have to give up my own life or soul to save him. I love that prat dearly!" Hermione burst out in tears. Sirius watched him sympathetically. "I know that, sweetheart. I do hope there will be an easier way, we just have to figure it out." Suddenly, Hermione felt a breeze, as if someone was caressing her hair, very lightly, with the tips of his fingers. Looking up, she met Sirius' glance and saw the older wizard smile.

"Hermione, I want you to see my belated birthday present to Harry. Would you be kind enough to open that cupboard there?" The young witch stood up and followed his instructions. From the cupboard she produced a flat item, maybe ten by fifteen inches, wrapped in soft, wine red velvet.

Heeding his urging gesture, she carefully placed the package on the desk, broke the Gryffindor seal on it and started carefully unwrapping it. When she was done, she flashed a beautiful, warm smile at Sirius, then turned her attention towards the gift.

"Mr. Potter, Mrs. Potter, nice to meet you, at last," she spoke softly.


	9. Chapter 9

The entrance door snapped shut and Hermione raised her head from the book she was reading. Sitting behind the ancient desk in the library, her new empire, she has been trying to decipher a thick French book, La magie défensive avancée, un livre pratique, with her broken French for the last two hours. The wards around the house emitted a melodic gong, and Hermione relaxed; whoever the person was, he was included in the Fidelius charm. Besides, Ron and the elves were still busy downstairs.

Shaking her head, the young witch irritatedly snapped the useless book close, throwing it back on the desk, and massaged her aching temples for a while, closing her eyes. She had spent four hours in a row trying to look up the Talking Patronus spell in the Black - now Granger - library, but none of the books she'd consulted so far mentioned any modifications of the standard Patronus spell.

Suddenly, she slapped her forehead. "Granger, you're losing your edge," she playfully chastised herself, allowing a smile to form on her pretty face. "All you have to do is get your mirror and talk to Professor McGonagall. She knows the spell; you've seen her perform it at least twice." She happily stood and stretched her aching legs and arms, then made her way out of the library, but not before sending all books, lying scattered on the desk, back to their places on the shelves with an almost invisible wrist movement.

She unwillingly smiled, satisfied with her perfectly – as usual – performed spell. These last two days, the three students and Leticia were training hard in the basement, brushing up their spellwork and learning a few really nasty jinxes from Remus, who came over to help them. One of the new jinxes, much to Hermione's distaste, was Dissectum, which was equally suitable to severe your opponent's wand, limb or head. When she beheaded her first training dummy with the purple flash bursting from the tip of her wand, she imagined for a moment what the spell would do to a living opponent and violently threw up her breakfast. Half an hour later, her legs still shaking and her face still somewhat green, she was, however, silently nodding when Remus explained her that in this war one couldn't be picky.

"You've heard about boxing, right?" he asked, pouring a generous amount of Firewhiskey into her steaming hot tea, handing the mug over.

Hermione thankfully accepted the mug and took a careful sip of the hot liquid, painfully flinching as it burnt the tip of her tongue. Blinking away the tears, she nodded silently.

"In boxing, there are rules. It's a sport, albeit a tough one. It allows you to beat the crap out of someone, in a controlled way, so to say." Remus stopped, and frowned his brows, seemingly deep in thoughts, while his fingers absentmindedly drummed on the table. Hermione took another sip and waited patiently for the wizard to continue.

Remus broke out of his reverie. "Imagine now, Hermione, that you are a boxer who found himself in a dark alley, surrounded by a handful of thugs. Would you still stick to the rules that had been taught to you or would you like to save your life using whichever methods you can?"

Hermione raised her eyes and cast an understanding, serious glance at him. "Of course, I'd try to get out of there, and possibly alive."

"Exactly!" Remus suddenly slammed his fist on the table, startling the girl. "You'd pick up a litter bin and hit someone with it, straight into his face. You'd kick someone in the groin and then knee him in the face. You'd do everything you can to save your life. Now, imagine that your DA sessions are the boxing ring. You get beaten, you get bruised, sent flying into walls, but in a controlled environment. This here, however, with Voldemort and his allies in power, is the dark alley we've all found ourselves. This is war, for life and death, and it's either us or them. There's no other alternative, only kill or be killed. They, for one, will show no mercy."

"Remus, I'm frightened," Hermione raised her tear-stained eyes at him again. "I shouldn't be talking about wars, fighting and killing! I'm only an eighteen-year old girl who hasn't lived yet and I don't want to die! I want to date, love, be loved, just like anybody of my age!"

The older wizard placed his mug on the table and knelt besides her chair. Their eyes, the grey and the brown, interconnected. Reaching for her hands, he spoke slowly.

"Hermione, you are the most extraordinary witch I've ever met. You would certainly give Lily Evans a run for her money. Listen now to me very carefully." She nodded, silently hiccupping.

"When this war is over, you'll be free to live your life just like anybody else. You are not going to die. We'll make sure you are all going to survive this. We'll teach you everything we know and even more than that. It's not only Voldemort who's recruiting and we have been booking some success as well. So, when the time comes and the battle will have to be fought, you will not go unprepared." He assuringly squeezed the girl's hands and she cast a thankful glance at him.

"Can you promise, Remus?" she inquired in a weak voice. "Can you be sure that Harry survives that thrice blasted prophecy? Will Ron and I ever have a chance to live our lives and love each other?"

Remus suddenly felt a pang in his heart. He knew he couldn't give her those false promises. Having been this situation before, having lost too many good friends in the first war, he knew what the other side was capable of, but he was deliberate to stand his ground, seeing the girl's desperation.

"Hermione, I'm not a Seer," he answered seriously. "I can't see into the future. In this war, anything can happen. But let me put it this way: you are a too serious opponent to Voldemort; you are a power not to be taken lightly, and you have powers he has not."

Hermione scoffed at hearing these much hated words, making her best friend's whole life a misery, but Remus went on, seemingly not taking note of the interruption."I know what you think about all this, and especially about Professor Trelawney, but prophecies, real prophecies are not to be taken lightly. It's our task to ensure the outcome which is good for us and not for the other side. So yes, there's a really good chance for you to survive this war and live happily ever after."

"You're a terrible liar, Remus Lupin," she smiled at the wizard, her features seemingly relaxing. "You are, just as every man, a terrible liar. Let's go back to the boys, I want to try that jinx again."

Smiling for the first time in the last hour, Remus stood and pulled her up in one smooth movement. Suddenly, he felt her lips pressed against his unshaven cheek, completely startling him. When he caught his breath again, the girl was already in the doorway, not even looking back at him. Shaking his head, he produced his wand, sending a very weak Tickling jinx at the girl. Before he could count to three, however, his wand had been torn out of his hand and he found himself stuck to the ceiling, hanging with his head down.

Wand still at ready, Hermione made a step into his direction, her lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes shooting daggers at the older wizard. "You... you..." she was unable to utter anything comprehensive. Huffing in annoyance, she drew a sharp breath, pocketed her wand and Remus' as well and left the kitchen, smashing the door behind her.

It took Remus half an hour before he was able to untie his laces and free himself from his somewhat awkward position. Later that day, however, he shooed away the girl's weak attempt to apologize.

"That was the kick in the groin I was hoping for, Hermione."

The girl returned his wand without saying a word, but her eyes were laughing.

"Hermione, Ron, I'm back!" shouted Harry, on the run taking off his wet robe; it had been pouring the whole day. Having gotten no answer, he shook his head and proceeded towards the kitchen and fixed three mugs of coffee, placing a Preserving charm on them. Then, he decided to head towards the basement to check on Ron's proceedings and handed him a coffee. After a short chat, he took off to find Hermione.

Having searched the whole house for his best friend, a short while later he found himself before the door with the snake doorknob on the fourth floor. The boy wondered for a while; he didn't remember ever having seen this door. Cereus lazily opened his eye and measured the visitor, who, startled by the sudden movement, took an involuntary step backwards.

"Ah, the Boy-who-lived... the new, Half-blood Masssster of the Noble Housssse of Black..." the snake hissed with a venomous edge in his voice. Harry looked at him intently and was about to open his mouth, when he heard Hermione's familiar voice from behind the door.

"Don't listen to Cereus, Harry. Just tell him the password, which is, as of now, 'pureblood', but I hope you'll change it to something more appropriate," the girl spoke. Harry smiled at the unmistakable irony in his friend's voice.

"So, Cereus, 'pureblood' is it." He saw the cobra's eyes light up green and heard the locks in the door click. Wolfishly grinning, he pulled his wand and touched the snake with its tip.

"From this moment on, I wish the password to be 'Sirius Black'." He could have sworn he heard the snake emit a frustrated sigh, but said nothing.

"Very well, Masssster," Cereus answered after what seemed an eternity, stressing the last word and closing his eyes, he rolled up again, allowing the door to open.

Harry entered the spacious library and his eyes lit up when he saw Hermione sitting at the magnificent table, deeply immersed in her thoughts. Several thick books and a few sheets of parchments, already filled with her neat handwriting and tens of diagrams, were scattered on the table. Raising her left hand, she waved him 'hello'.

Freeing up some space, Harry silently placed the tray on the desk. Gently laying his hands on her shoulders, he gave a quick peck on her head. Not only had they been best friends for six years, now she was also the closest to what he could call 'family'.

Hermione felt immense happiness every time Harry was around her, but it was not the knee-weakening, mind-bending feeling she'd recently been having in Ron's presence. Having finally admitted their feelings, the two became very comfortable around each other and even though Ron hadn't stopped being the "insensitive git" and Hermione the "insufferable know-it-all", even the blind could see they were very much in love.

Harry, however, began feeling more and more alone, left out. He was badly missing Ginny, and even though they were speaking through Remus' magical mirrors at least a few times a day, it couldn't deny the fact that she wasn't here with him. He would retire early in the evening and just lie on his bed, sometimes not even bothering to change into his pyjamas. He would think of Ginny, of the few happy days they'd spent together before Dumbledore's death. He would think of whether or not he'd done the right thing leaving her. Sometimes, he would sit on the carpet in the living room and Leticia would keep him company, talking about things, important and unimportant, or just watch the dying embers in the fireplace in a convenient silence. Awkward as this friendship might have seemed, they felt actually quite comfortable in each others' proximity.

Seeing him in pain hurt Hermione, but she didn't know how to help his best friend. To get Ginny over here was no option. First of all, she was unprepared for a war, even more unprepared than the four of them. Second, with Molly and Arthur around, she was relatively safe. Third, she planned to go back to Hogwarts, and the less she knew about what they were about to do, the less danger she would be in.

Hermione finally dropped her quill and leaned back, resting her head against Harry and closing her eyes.

"Just what I wanted, Harry. You know you can always seduce me with a coffee," she admitted, taking a deep breath.

"Come to think of it, I have to tell Ron about it," he joked, taking a cup from the tray and putting it under her nose, teasing her with the pleasant smell of the hot drink. "He's the one to seduce you, not me."

Looking around in the library, he admired the place for a short while. "What is this room? How come we've never been in here before?"

"My library, in your house. Strange, isn't it?" Hermione answered simply, but with a playful spark in her eyes, while taking a blissful sip from the coffee.

Harry was obviously missing something. "Your library?" he asked again. "Since when do you have a library here?"

"A few days, actually, you Neanderthaler." Harry was caught by surprise by the familiar voice, and with the speed of a lightning turned around. Sirius, whose portrait was now hanging on the wall where it belonged, right behind the desk, emitted a short laugh, curiously resembling a bark. "It was my belated birthday present to your sister, dear godson."

"Sirius! So good to see you!" Harry's face lit up. Completely forgetting about his coffee, he walked up to the portrait and looked deep into the painted eyes.

"You've grown up, Harry. Quite the man I had hoped to see you grow into." Sirius' eyes cast an appreciating glance at his godson. "Your sister here says your magic's grown even stronger. Seems like your DADA lessons with Snivellus were still good for something. Only, I can imagine he hadn't been very impressed that you had stolen his 'Sectumsempra'."

Sensing Harry's questioning look, he laughed again. "Harry, I know everything about your sixth year. I also happen to know that you finally found the courage to kiss Ginny."

Dark clouds overshadowed Harry's face and he swallowed heavily. "Sirius, I would give everything to be with her, but I had to do it. I had to break up with her. The more people know we don't date any more, the more chance she might have to survive."

"You are right, and at the same time, you are wrong, Harry." Sirius stood up from his chair and started pacing in his painted world. "She is a blood traitor, the daughter of two Order members, and as such she is a prime target. Her dating you had just added up to the total picture."

"I don't know how I can protect her, Sirius, and this feeling of being powerless slowly eats me away," admitted Harry, sighing deeply. Hermione stood up, walked up to him and pulled him into a one-armed hug. "Love is a great power, Harry. Remember what Dumbledore said. I'm sure everything will be fine with Ginny."

Sirius sat back at his desk, grinning ferociously. "Hermione, would you show it to him?" he asked secretfully, and the girl smiled back at him with a knowing glance. Producing the package from the cupboard, she handed it over to Harry, then stepped back and waited for his reaction.

It took Harry half an hour to come by from the shock after hearing the soft voice of his mother whispering his name, for the first time in his conscious life. 


	10. Chapter 10

Some time later, a still overwhelmed and teary-faced Harry and an equally emotional Hermione joined Ron, Leticia and Dobby in the kitchen. Seeing the bushy-haired girl nod silently at his questioning glance, the elf quickly fixed some tea for them all, then the five friends seated themselves at the table.

"How was your day, Harry?" started Hermione in a forcibly casual tone. Emptying his mug in a long gulp, Harry took a refill, then, concentrating on today's happenings, started his tale in a hushed voice.

"You won't believe. Arthur and I met in front of the Ministry, then we took a walk to the Thames and had some fish-and-chips. There are some serious changes going on in the Ministry and Arthur is afraid that they won't be favourable for us. He'll try to sniff around some more, but he's under suspicion so he has to be careful."

Hearing this, Ron raised his head. "How does he know that?"

"Remember he told us yesterday that his desk had all been turned upside down as if someone had been looking for something?" The redheaded boy nodded silently, cringing on Harry's words. "Well, Kingsley came in this morning with a bandaged fist, and when your Dad asked him what had happened to his hand he admitted to have caught Dawlish rummaging on his desk and... well... Dawlish had been found in a nearby alleyway and taken to St Mungo's with a fractured cheek bone and short-term memory loss."

"That's a good man, Kingsley!" cheered Ron, raising his mug to a toast. Laughing at his antics, the others joined him as well. "Served him right. Never liked that Auror," admitted Harry, remembering the events in his fifth year in Dumbledore's office. "What's more important is that we saw Dolohov today in Muggle London..." he continued, but, seeing Hermione's pretty features wrought into a grimace, he abruptly broke the sentence. She didn't forget the Flame-cutter Curse Dolohov had hit her with in the Department of Mysteries, but neither did Harry. Dolohov was third on his list to deal with, right after Tom Riddle and Peter Pettigrew.

Breathing heavily, his hand clenched into a fist, he continued. "We saw Dolohov in Muggle London, together with Peter. They were sitting in a pub drinking beer and talking about Grimmauld Place. Bellatrix or Narcissa must have told Voldemort about the house and they're betting all-in that I'm here. Of course, they can't find the house and it's driving them mad; Peter was whining about how useless it was to spend days sitting in the square and watching a house which didn't exist. Dolohov punched him in the face telling him to shut the fuck up and do as the Dark Lord had ordered. Tonight they will be here again on the watch."

Harry lowered his voice to a dangerous hiss. "Tonight, I'm going to do something about the two. I will switch the role of the dogs and the tails for a change. Tonight, I'll have a chance to pay my debt to both of them."

"I'm NOT letting you do anything, Harry!" shrieked Hermione, slamming her mug at the table, not noticing that the hot tea burned her hands. "You are NOT going to risk your life! You'll have your chance for a revenge later, when you are much better prepared!"

Pulling his wand and pointing it at her hand, Harry murmured a quick healing spell. Then, he looked straight into her eyes, his emerald eyes sparkling with cold flames and he spoke in a calm, icy voice. "You can't and won't stop me, Hermione. I have a plan and I promise you that I'm not going to risk my life. If you calm down, I will tell you. Leticia, can I count on you?"

$$$

The night fell and the two strangely-dressed men were still sitting in the square on a bench under the old oak tree. A careful observer would have found weird why their clothes remained dry in the pouring rain. He also would have found peculiar that the newspapers the two were reading had moving pictures in them, but with this weather there was no one on the streets.

Annoyedly huffing, the smaller man irritatedly threw his newspaper on the bench and stood. "What the fuck are we doing here, Dolohov? Is the Dark Lord absolutely sure the boy's in here?"

"Sit back down, Peter," the second man answered, not even looking up from his newspaper. "Your mere sight nauseates me. The Dark Lord ordered us to watch the place, so we are doing it. What he thinks is neither your business, nor mine."

Peter took no notice of his answer or his insult, but started nervously pacing around the bench, kept dry by a simple Impenetrable ward. "I tell you this is madness. Even if this house does exist, it's invisible, unplottable, and most probably warded by the Fidelius charm. We'll never get to see it, or them, while we are here."

Dolohov slowly folded his newspaper. "Shut the fuck up and stop whining," he said almost lovingly. "Nobody knows where Potter is. Even the blood-traitor Weasleys, his surrogate family, don't know his whereabouts. I performed Legilimency on them while questioning them. If he's alive, he must be hiding his ass here knowing that we are looking for him. We just have to wait until he makes a mistake."

"Clear reasoning, my dear Dolohov. I myself couldn't have said it better." The cool, emotionless, hissing voice startled the two men, who grabbed their wands and turned to the newcomer, only to find that their wands were no longer in their hands. However, when the figure came closer and they recognized his face, they respectfully bowed their heads in front of him.

The second figure, following the newcomer two steps behind, now emitted an irritating, childish laugh, dancing around the two startled Death Eaters. "Where is your big mouth now, rat? Or have you swallowed your tongue perhaps?"

"That's enough, Bella," said Voldemort simply, not even turning back to her.

"But Master, they were questioning your orders. Please give them to me so that I could punish them properly!" Bella contradicted, ignoring the warning signals her mind was giving her.

"I said: enough." Voldemort still didn't raise his voice, but Bella abruptly and obediently closed her mouth, not taking her eyes, burning with madness, off the two.

"Let's take a stroll, shall we? It's a beautiful evening and you can tell me everything about your results and concerns," offered Voldemort in a dangerously sweet voice and not expecting an answer took off in the direction of a big street. When he saw the two hesitate, he wrought his face in a grimace which could just as well have been interpreted as a smile.

"Come on, my dear friends. If Potter is here, he won't go anywhere while we have our small talk. If he's not here, well, we don't lose anything. Let's go."

Still hesitantly, the two followed Voldemort, Bellatrix closing the small procession. As they walked in a slow, but steady tempo, her eyes constantly scanned the streets, but her ears were trained on the hushed talk between Voldemort and Dolohov.

After a few minutes' walk, the strange quartet arrived at a dimly lit, dead-end street, which was - just like every other street they'd been walking - abandoned at this time of the day. Wearing a questioning look on his badly scarred face, Dolohov collected all bravery he could muster and looked straight into the snake-like eyes of the Dark Lord.

"My lord, why have you brought us here?" he asked in a respectful voice.

"I wanted a place where I could talk to the two of you uninterrupted and in private," Voldemort answered, stopping and turning to them, a curious spark playing in his eyes. "We have a slight change of the plan." He broke the sentence, waiting for their attention.

"My lord?" Dolohov did not understand.

"Unlike Lucius and the other slime-balls, you have been serving me well, Antonin," started Voldemort, seemingly satisfied with the man. The Death Eater slightly bowed his head waiting for his master to continue.

Pettigrew, however, felt uncomfortable. The whole time, the Dark Lord hadn't spoken a single word to him. Has he fallen out of the Dark Lord's grace? His whole body started trembling. Voldemort, however, didn't miss his distress and cast an ironic glance at the small, rat-like man.

"Peter, Peter, what a pitiful thing you are. Weren't I satisfied with your service, I would have already fed you to Nagini a long time ago." Even frightened as he was, Pettigrew couldn't suppress a relieved sigh. The next sentence, however, neither him, nor Dolohov had expected.

"You've both been faithful servants," Voldemort's voice changed and suddenly became dry and cold. "The situation, however, changed and I'm no longer in need of your services."

Dolohov and Pettigrew exchanged a frightened glance, understanding the inevitable. Then several things happened at once. The two made a quick attempt to run, but the only way they could get out of the dead-end street was to get past Bellatrix. The same moment they understood they'd been trapped, the same moment the comprehension dawned in their eyes, the men were hit by jets of red light emitted from Voldemort and Bellatrix' wands and everything went dark.

"Quick, before they regain consciousness," whispered Bellatrix into Voldemort's ears. Levitating the two men behind a tree, they bound the two with magical ropes. When their victims were immobilized, they exchanged an understanding glance, then Voldemort pointed his wand at Peter's temple and muttered "Ennervate". The same moment the man opened his watery eyes, the Dark Lord sent a "Langlock" curse at him. Effectively immobilized and silenced, Peter understood there was no way out of this situation.

Bellatrix knelt down besides him and looked deep in his eyes. In a hypnotic voice, barely above a whisper, she started to speak and, Peter realized in sheer horror, her eyes started glowing red.

"You caught sight of Harry Potter in Muggle London and ran after him. You managed to keep up with him but he Apparated away the very last moment before you could stun him to bring him before the Dark Lord. While chasing Potter, you lost Dolohov and you have no idea where he can be at the moment. You won't remember anything else."

Bellatrix was breathing heavily, her irises now burning with a red flame. Peter felt her words dancing around his mind, driving away all his other thoughts and memories, then suddenly he felt peaceful and completely oblivious to the outside world and wet himself.

Bellatrix now stood and returned to the Dark Lord, still breathing heavily, trying to retain her calmness. Her rage now started to break through the Illusion charm and her facial features distorted, her fangs beginning to protrude from her gum. Voldemort followed her glance and understood the reason of her distress. When he hit Dolohov, the more dangerous of the two, the impact of the Stunner sent him into a wall and the skin on his face was ripped open, the wound still bleeding profusely. He drew a few sharp breaths, then, trying to retain his composure, drew up his shoulders, answering the unspoken question.

"I won't stop you." With these words, he walked a few yards away and turned his back on Bellatrix, waiting patiently. A few minutes later, he heard the flattering of giant wings which shortly afterwards died away in the distance, only to resume after a short while.

Feeling the gush of cold wind on his face caused by the wings, he slowly turned around. Leticia, calm and collected, silently joined him, already back in her human form. Harry expectantly turned his face to her, but she lowered her glance, saying nothing. After a minute of uncomfortable silence, she asked, her eyes full of tears, "Do you hate me now, Harry?"

Harry raised her chin with his index finger and looked deep into her eyes. "Stop talking nonsense, Leticia. You can't do anything about what you've been born. Let's get out of here."

He searched for the girl's hands and squeezed them reassuringly. Seeing her features relax, he removed the Illusion charm from them both and Leticia transformed into a small bat. Placing her into the pocket of his robe, he draped the Invisibility Cloak around himself and, holding both his own wand and Dolohov's wand at ready, he made his way back to his – now their – home and sanctuary.


	11. Chapter 11

Someone was knocking at the door. Harry and Ron, the only two people downstairs, put back their glasses on the kitchen table and jumped up in one smooth movement, moving towards the door with their wands at ready.

The knocking repeated; this time it became more impatient and loud. Exchanging an understanding glance with his best friend, Harry opened the door, while Ron was pointing his wand at the door, ready to strike. However, when he saw the figure entering the dusky hallway, he lowered his wand and, as if mesmerized, stared at her, dropping his jaw on the floor.

Fleur Delacour, wearing an ethereal smile on her beautiful face, silently closed the door behind herself, and expectantly looked at the boys. Her sleek body was draped into an expensive travel cloak, woven from an incredibly thin, silvery white thread; it seemed as if it had no weight at all. The material of the cloak reminded Harry of his own Invisibility cloak. He, however, didn't have much time for making analogies. On the contrary, he turned to the newcomer with a stern face, pointing his wand at her chest.

"What did you call me when I turned out to be the fourth competitor in the Triwizard tournament?" he demanded.

Fleur only smiled. "I called you 'zis little boy' but 'zis little boy' 'az grown up and by now became a 'andsome young man."

"What is the core of your wand?" Harry pressed on, but his features seemed to relax.

"An 'air from my grandmuzzer'z 'ead," the Veela replied readily. Only then had Harry pocketed his wand and made a hesitating step towards her. Much to his surprise, the gorgeous girl jumped on his neck, hugged him tight and started kissing him for all she was worth. Harry awkwardly hugged her back, trying to ignore the fact that the most gorgeous body he'd ever seen was pressed incredibly tight to him, which body, at the same time, belonged to the wife of one of his friends. He could feel her magnificent curves against him; his own body vividly reacted to her presence and he started feeling somewhat uncomfortable in his jeans as his hormones started to stir.

"Whoa! Fleur, I'm very happy to see you, I really am, but do you think you can take it a bit easier, PLEASE? I'm trying to breathe!" he said apologetically, flushing red. Not without an effort, he finally managed to untangle himself from the young woman's embrace and held her away at arm's length. "Care to tell me what you are doing here? It was a very irresponsible thing to come here, you know!"

"'Arry, I don't care. I simply needed to see that you..." she turned her heard towards Ron and after a barely noticeable pause continued, "all are alive and well." By this time, Hermione and Leticia appeared at the noise as well, curiously eyeing the newcomer. Fleur let go of Harry's hands, and stepped up to Ron, briefly hugging him. Then, she repeated the hug with Hermione, but stopped dead in her track at the sight of Leticia. The Veela and the vampire suspiciously watched each other, saying nothing. Finally Hermione understood and introduced the two to each other.

"Fleur, this is Leticia Brown, our new friend and ally. Leticia, this is Fleur Delacour-Weasley, Bill's wife I'd already told you about."

The two murmured a few words of courtesy, not taking their eyes off each other. Then, an awkward silence started to form, and the five youngsters stood there for a while, not knowing what to do next. Fleur, however, had soon enough, and stepped up to Harry again.

"Do you know of a place where we can talk uninterrupted? I 'ave some tres important news for you."

Harry exchanged an incomprehensive look with the others, but silently nodded in answer, expectantly looking into the Veela's crystal clear blue eyes.

"Good," nodded Fleur, seemingly satisfied, offering her hand to Harry. "Lead on, 'Arry."

When the two disappeared on the stairs, Ron let out a sharp breath, making an unambiguous gesture with his index finger at his temple. "Mental that girl, she is," he sighed. "She didn't even kiss me."

Hermione shot a murderous glare at Ron, painfully poking him in the ribs.

"Ow, woman! What was that good for?" inquired Ron, rubbing his side with a wry expression on his face.

"I always thought you would prefer being kissed by me," answered Hermione in a dry voice, "but in my opinion Gabrielle would be a better choice, so it seems."

"Hell no!" shouted Ron, expectantly pouching his lips. Hermione did her best to remain neutral for a moment; finally she gave in and pecked his boyfriend on his lips. She pulled away, however, when Ron tried to deepen the kiss. Not missing the somewhat hurt glance in his eyes, she hurried to answer, whispering in his ear so that only he could hear, "The day is not over yet." Returning her voice to normal, she added, "I can smell food. Why don't we check on Dobby in the kitchen?"

Not even expecting an answer from Ron, she took Leticia's hand and with a cackle left the startled boy standing alone. Letting out an exasperated sigh, he followed the two girls. "Mental, I say. All girls are bloody mental."

Fleur and Harry, in the meantime, climbed the stairs to the second floor. Reaching for the doorknob, Harry threw a lopsided glance at the young woman. The expression on her beautiful face, however, he didn't like one bit. She wore a strange, anticipating, almost predatory smile and was unconsciously chewing at her lower lip. With a shrug, he hushed away his thoughts and smiled back at her, then opened the door to the antechamber and stepped aside, letting her enter first.

Fleur, however, didn't stop; with steady steps she made her way towards the boys' bedroom and there was nothing left for Harry but follow her. He was surprised to see Fleur pull her wand and point it at the door, locking it. Another movement of her wand he recognized in an instant; the girl cast an soundproof ward on the room. Seeing his questioning look, Fleur laughed; her voice sounded like pearls dropped in a crystal decanter.

"I didn't want zem to 'ear us, 'Arry. I 'ave a big secret to share wiz you," she explained simply. With one hand, she unfastened her travel cloak and let it slide off her shoulders. She was dressed lightly under the cloak; she wore only a simple T-shirt and blue jeans and, Harry saw, her clothes followed each and every curve of her perfect body, leaving absolutely no room for his imagination. His mouth became dry and he had to swallow a few times. The Veela made a hesitant step towards him, which caused him to back one step in order to preserve the distance between them. She wanted to have none of it, however; she closed on him, forcing him backwards, until he was effectively pinned between the her and one of the beds. Then she made one last step and Harry was forced to sit back on the bed.

Grinning ferociously, the Veela now made a strange gesture with her wand and her clothes were gone as if dissolved in thin air. Gulping in awe, Harry realized her underwear was also gone, if she had won any of it previously, that is. Repeating the same wand movement, with the wand pointing at Harry this time, the girl nodded satisfied when Harry's clothes vaporized as well.

"I 'ave been waiting for zis too long, 'Arry. Make love to me, please," she whispered into his ears, as she closed the remaining inches between them and pressed the boy's head against her chest.

"Fleur, what happened to you? You're Bill's wife! I can't and won't make love to you!" Harry tried to reason her, while gently trying to push her away.

"'Arry, ze Veela are sexual creatures. We need sex just like we need air, food and water. Now enough of ze talking!" she replied, maneuvering Harry that way so that he would lie flat on his back on the bed, then, satisfied with the results, positioned herself above him, pressed her body against him and leaning forward, captured his lips in a ferocious, hungry kiss, causing his blood reach boiling temperature and his heart skip a few beats. He couldn't help but hug the gorgeous girl to himself, at first hesitantly, later more and more eagerly answering her kiss as his hands roamed freely on the girl's back, caressed her hair, cupped and gently squeezed her firm bum.

After a few minutes of thorough snogging, he felt the girl's body shudder and opened his eyes, only to realize in awe the the girl was changing. Where a few seconds ago her silvery blond hair was falling freely, covering them both, there were now fiery red locks. Her body became also shorter, somewhat fuller. Breaking the liplock for a moment, Ginny Weasley grinned at her boyfriend, flashing a 32-tooth smile at the dumbfounded boy.

Harry thought he was hallucinating. "Holy crap, Ginny! Is that really you?" he whispered hoarsely, trying to fight the clouds overshadowing his mind. Profusely nodding, the girl suddenly went serious.

"Harry, I know I shouldn't be here. I don't know what made me come here and I don't even want to know what you must be thinking about me right now. To be absolutely honest, I'm scared as hell and I'd bet my wand you are as well. It's just... I haven't had the chance to give you the birthday present I had in mind for you, so please just shut the fuck up and make love to me. Please, Harry?" The last words she pronounced in a trembling voice, and she seemed on the verge of tears.

Very gently, Harry reached for her and kissed away all her fears. Soon, all her – and his - wishes had been complied to.

Later, as if in a pink haze, they just lay there, under the cover, spooning against each other. Harry carefully laid his hand on her stomach, hugging her tight to himself. Suddenly, he emitted a high-pitch yell, slapping his forehead.

"The spell! Ginny, I'm so sorry! I totally forgot!"

Snuggling closer to him, Ginny closed her eyes and smiled dreamily. "I took the potion, Harry. Don't worry, you noble git. I couldn't have expected from you to know the spell we had been taught, anyway."

Harry seemingly relaxed and went back to tenderly caressing her body with his fingertips. His nose drew in her scent, her favourite lilac perfume now mingled with salty droplets of her sweat. He planted tender kisses on her neck, ears, collarbone, while their bodies were still pleasantly shivering in the aftermath of what they had just done. It felt just so right, so perfect to hold her in his arms, and for the umpteenth time in his short life, he cursed the bitch Faith which took away all his chances to lead a normal life of an average teenager boy.

He felt Ginny move in his arms and she turned around to face him. They kissed gently again, savouring every second as if it was an eternity. Words were superfluous, even without them they understood how much they were in love.

"This was the most amazing experience in my entire life, Ginny," admitted Harry, when their lips separated.

"Believe me, Harry, the feeling is mutual, and I'm sorry we hadn't shared it earlier," the girl answered, gleaming at her boyfriend.

Harry arranged his featured in a wry grimace. He had a very good reason for that, he thought. However, he decided it wouldn't be wise to voice his opinion at this wonderful moment. Emitting a snore, he continued. "I need to admit that you completely had me here."

"Oh yes, I have," Ginny licked her lips, "and I'm sorry I haven't done it earlier."

"Ginny, I wasn't talking about that right now," Harry scolded her playfully. "For a few minutes, until your Polyjuice wore off, I really did think you were Fleur and it scared me to death to see you - her - advance on me like that. You even mimicked her accent."

"Believe me, lover boy, the sight of you was priceless," laughed Ginny, kissing his nose. "You did have some trouble breathing, that's for sure."

"Just tell me who came up with this insane and dangerous idea? You could have been caught, you know."

"I already told you through the mirror that I'd been practically living with Bill and Fleur ever since the wedding crashers left the Burrow, right?"

"No 'Phlegm', no 'French tart' this time, love?" Harry smirked ironically, but the redhead continued, not taking notice of him.

"I've really gotten to like Fleur, you know. We did a lot of talking, and... well, Veelas have a natural aptitude to certain … things..." She flushed prettily, then, mustering all her bravery, she went on. "I told her how much I loved you and how scared I was of losing you and and … well... we sort of at the same time came up with this idea. Now you know that my feelings hadn't changed a bit for you and you'll have an incentive not to have your ass busted and come back to me, my dear."

Harry tried to interject, but Ginny put her index finger against his lips, signalling him to shut up. "Fleur had some Polyjuice Potion left from operation Decoy Harry. We knew you'd be asking questions to find out if Fleur was really Fleur, so she extracted all her memories of you in order that I could memorize them. I was wearing her clothes, carrying her wand, so with a bit of luck you all shouldn't have been able to notice anything out-of-ordinary."

Harry realized in awe how much it must have taken her to prepare for this dangerous adventure and he was filled with a healthy amount of pride. "That's my girl! I really couldn't notice anything weird until you turned back to yourself. That moment, however, was the weirdest moment in my entire life and I'm not sure I want to repeat it. Ever. Only what followed afterwards."

"Harry, I'm not asking what the three of you..." Ginny suddenly broke the sentence and carefully examined Harry's face. "Or should I say the four of you are up to? Who's this Leticia anyway? Is she really a vampire?" The boy told her in a few words all about their new friend.

Ginny chew over this information for a while; the most of it she'd already heard, of course, from her Dad and Harry as well, but one couldn't say she was too happy about it, Harry could see it on the expression on her face. "She swore a wizarding oath, Ginny, and she has a very good personal reason to wish for Voldemort's death."

"I know that, Harry, but I still don't like the idea of having a vampire around you all." She made a wry grimace, which turned into a huge grin when Harry kissed the corner of her mouth. "Don't you try to distract me, Harry Potter!" she warned him playfully. "I have promised Fleur that I'll not stay away long, otherwise she'd personally come and fetch me. Let's take a shower and if you're a good boy, you may wash my back."

A few minutes and a quick shower/snogging session later, both still naked, they sat back on Harry's bed. Ginny dried her hair with her wand, then raised her eyes, sadly looking into Harry's.

"I really need to be off before Fleur raises the Order, even if I hate the mere thought of having to leave you again. I just want to tell you, Harry, how much I really love you. I wish I could come with you and do whatever stuff you need to do, but I know you're being noble again and want me out of harm's way." Grabbing his hand, she hold it against her fast-beating heart. "Before you say anything, no, I won't ask you again. I respect your choice. Just promise me that you are going to take good care of yourselves and you, Mister, return to me in one piece, after you've done whatever you've set out for."

"Ginny, I love you more than I can tell you and it was the most beautiful birthday present I could have ever dreamed of. I – we – will do our best to finish up what we've started." Feeling the dreaded moment of their ways parting again, Harry wanted to fight it, but he knew every moment Ginny was not in the circle of her family, she was in danger. So, he just kissed her, lovingly, longingly, pouring all his emotions into the kiss.

"How are you going back home? How did you even come here, if I may ask?" he asked, slightly out of breath, when they, hesitantly, ended the kiss.

"Well," started Ginny, "Bill Weasley and Fleur Delacour-Weasley had taken the Delacours to the International Floo Station at Kensington via Portkey. From there, Bill Weasley and Fleur Delacour-Weasley will take the same Portkey back to the Burrow in about... thirty-two minutes," she finished, consulting the old grandfather's clock in the corner. Reaching out with her right hand, a small vial soared through the air, landing on her palm.

Harry nodded understandingly, admiring her perfectly performed wandless magic. "Polyjuice?" he asked, already knowing the answer. Most probably, he just wanted to hear her sweet voice once again.

"Ehem..." answered Ginny somewhat absently as she was weighing the vial with the opaque silvery fluid in her hand. "See, I decided to give you another small gift, Harry, just because you were a good boy."

Harry didn't understand. Her "presents" seemed always unexpected, sometimes even slightly weird, dangerous. However, Ginny took pity on him, emitting a ringing laughter.

"I was contemplating whether or not I should take the Polyjuice naked or dressed. Since I hope we will see each other in the buff again, the sooner, the better, I think you would enjoy to see some more skin of Fleur, the very last time in your life. Cheers, Harry!" She toasted with the vial and raised it to her lips, emptying its content until the last droplet before the boy could react.

The effect was almost instantaneous; in a few seconds Ginny was gone, only to be replaced by the young Veela. Harry growled in frustration and tried to suppress the reaction of his teenage body to the appetizing sight.

"Like what you see, Harry?" Fleur-Ginny smiled, teasingly dancing around the boy, earning a playful slap on her bum.

"You're trying to kill me, woman," groaned Harry, closing his eyes.

"If Voldemort could do that, I doubt I will ever succeed. I'll tell Fleur what effect she had on you, Harry," teased Fleur-Ginny kissing his nose, and danced away when Harry tried to grab her wrist.

The boy groaned again, this time louder. "Cut me a break, Ginny! I am already far too embarrassed. I feel I am never going to be able to look at her the same way or to hold a conversation with her after today."

Swishing her wand, Fleur-Ginny dressed herself and Harry as well and ran her wand through her hair, arranging her blond locks. "Don't be afraid, lover boy. You and Fleur are both grown-ups; you're not the first one to have seen her in what she'd been born."

"Come on, I'll go with you until the railway station. I hate the idea of you walking around on your own," Harry decided, summoning his wand and his cloak. In the door, they kissed again, Harry desperately trying to ignore the sight of who he was kissing, concentrating only on his love to Ginny. They held hands while they descended the stairs and found the others sitting in the living room behind some books.

"Guys, Fleur's leaving; I'm going with her to Kensington. I'll be back as soon as I can. I have the cloak with me, so don't worry," he announced. Fleur let go of his hand and said her goodbye to the three others, briefly hugging and kissing them, then walking back to Harry and interlocking her fingers with his again.

On seeing this, Hermione frowned, but said nothing. Her brain, however, was working over-hours, seeing as her lips were pressed tight in concentration. Finally, her features smoothened. "_Fleur, faites mes amitiés à les Weasleys!_" she said, casting an angelic smile at the Veela. Fleur flushed slightly and mumbled something inaudible, then said her final goodbyes to the three.

Still holding her hand, Harry draped his cloak around them and the entrance door opened, then closed again. A minute of nervous silence that followed was broken by the two girls' voices.

"She..."

"She..."

They both laughed, Ron's glance alternating between the two. Finally Hermione offered, "You first, Leticia."

"She's no Veela," the girl stated simply, drawing in the air sharply with her nose.

"How'd you know?" asked a dumbfounded Ron.

"I could smell it on her, Ron," the vampire answered briefly. "Veela smell sweet. She had none of it."

Hermione's brain was switching gears. "She wasn't Fleur," she added knowingly. "She can't speak any French at all." Seeing that Ron was just about to ask the same question, she rushed to answer. "She was surprised to have heard French spoken to her. The real Fleur," she stressed the adjective, "knows I can speak a few words. This one, whoever she might have been, was surprised."

"Then who was this?" swallowed Ron, shaking his head. He clearly didn't understand anything of this situation.

Chewing on her lower lip, Hermione looked at him, wearing a nervous expression on her face. "Let's hope Harry has the answer for this question."

After a pleasurable walk, the two arrived at the main entrance of Kensington Railway Station. Hiding behind a column, Harry removed the cloak and drew the girl into one last hug spiced with a longing farewell kiss.

"I will make up some story for the others, sweetheart. Be very careful and I want you to have that mirror on you 24 hours a day. I'll ask Remus to charm one more for Mum and Dad," he whispered into her ear, holding her tight against himself not wanting this second to end.

"I will if you will, lover boy," she smiled at him through her tears. He hesitantly let go of her, checking the surroundings. She looked at him one last time, then she caught sight of Bill and with steady steps set out towards him. Harry watched her dance out of his life, yet again, then slowly, as if in a haze, reached for his wand.

"I'm sorry, Ginny. It's for your own safety," he whispered as he pointed the wand towards his girl. "Obliviate!"

The Memory curse stung Ginny between her shoulder blades and she shrugged annoyingly, as if trying to shoo away a mosquito. Satisfied with the results, Harry pocketed his wand again and, watching Bill hug the girl, he slid under the protection of his Invisibility cloak to start his journey back to the safety of 12, Grimmauld Place.

Lunch came and went but the three teenagers had no appetite. In the foreclosure of something bad to be bound to happen, they only picked at their food, and Ron was no exception this time.

Nervously pacing up and down the dark hallway, deep in her thoughts, Hermione suddenly heard the door open and close silently. Making sure it was Harry, entering the building still in his cloak, she cast "Homenum revelio" around herself and was just all too happy to see her guess was right.

Folding his cloak, Harry walked in her direction, but stopped dead in his track. Hermione's eyes shot flames at him; she was wearing a rather McGonagall-ish, stern look and her lips were pressed into a thin line: the sign of extreme concentration. Her hands on her sides, she pronounced only a short question.

"_.This?"_

Harry tried to retain his composure, but in vain and suddenly a huge, wolfish grin appeared on his tired face. He said nothing, only calmly answered the girl's glare. Hermione shook her head, sending her hair flying around in the air, then, suddenly, her features pulled into a grin similar to Harry's, she rushed to the boy and flung on his neck, hugging him tight. "Ginny Weasley, you stupid idiot," she thought, "you did it!"


End file.
